Passing Notes
by mechachic
Summary: AU. Harry and Draco are in love with each other, but they don't know it. What will happen when they realize the other's identity? The idea is similar to You've Got Mail. Will be kind of angsty, but with a lot of humor too. SLASH HPDM
1. Homework and Confrontations

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Warning: This story will contain slash between Harry and Draco. If you don't like it don't read it. If you do, this is my first time so I will do my best. Also, the story is a little AU. Hope you enjoy.

**Chapter 1: Homework and Confrontations**

"I can't believe Snape assigned so much on the first day!" Ron's voice boomed through the library as he made his way grudgingly over to the table where Harry and Hermione sat.

"Mr. Weasley! Shh!" Madam Pince warned the distraught redhead from around the corner. Harry and Hermione couldn't help but smile at their friend's antics.

"Sorry," Ron blushed as he whispered, turning to face his two friends, "but you have to admit, mate, this is pretty bad even for Snape."

"The Potion's essay…yeah," Harry agreed, "I don't think I've heard of most of the potions he assigned."

"That's because they are all very advanced, Harry," Hermione informed, "I read about some of them over the summer. I have to admit, I'm surprised we're starting them so early in the year. However, at a time like this – with Voldemort and the Death Eaters clearly planning something – I think Snape might actually be on to something." She smiled at the realization. It made perfect sense to her. Anything that could be used in the war against Voldemort should be taken advantage of.

"Hermione," Ron interrupted his girlfriend with a chuckle. "Tell me you didn't spend the summer studying advanced potions?" he pleaded, but her only answer was a confused look that seemed to say, "Of course. What else would I have been doing?" Ron simply sighed and instead decided to try to seek out some more interesting information from his best friend. "So, how was your summer, Harry?" Harry became noticeably uneasy at the comment, suddenly becoming very interested in his glasses.

"I don't know. The Dursleys were still a little freaked out about what happened last summer with the dementors. I think they wanted to make a point out of making me as miserable as possible," he admitted to his two best friends.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Hermione told him sympathetically as she placed a comforting hand on his arm.

"Yeah, mate," Ron added. "You can always come visit me, you know. My mom loves it when you come over. Seriously, I think she likes you better than me sometimes," he joked, causing Harry's boyish grin to once again grace his features.

"Yeah, thanks. At least I won't have to put up with it for much longer," Harry told them hopefully, trying to keep his voice down.

Madam Pince had been eyeing the trio menacingly since they arrived, although Harry could admit they did look a little suspicious talking in the library with no books open at their table. Ron and Hermione followed his gaze.

"Let's get out of here. I'm starving," Ron suggested, receiving a nod from Hermione.

"You guys go ahead," Harry insisted. "I want to at least get a start on this. I'll meet you in a little bit."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, but Harry nodded resolutely.

"Okay, see you in bit then, mate," Ron said as he took Hermione's hand and led her out of the library.

Harry smiled to himself before turning to his Potions list and letting out a heavy sigh. This was going to be a very long couple of weeks.

* * *

It was a long list, but fortunately he had to choose only one of the potions for his essay. However, Snape had made it very clear to the class's dismay that they would be very difficult to research, and most likely, the library wouldn't contain much information on any of them. They were, after all, rare potions. That greasy git had looked right at Harry as he'd said that too, a wicked gleam in his eyes. It just made Harry's blood boil remembering it!

"_These are advanced potions and very rare at that. Very little is known about them so don't expect to copy the text out of some book in the library. You will be…disappointed," the bat like man had declared as he stalked about the room. Then he glared icily at Harry, "Of course, that means you will all have to actually use your heads when it comes to researching. However, I expect that may be too much to ask of some of you, isn't that right, Potter?" _

It made Harry absolutely sick to remember his response to that obvious insult: _"Yes, sir." _Yes, Sir! What the hell had he been thinking? But of course, Snape had caught him completely off guard. It should have been no surprise that Snape would single him out like that. The snarky professor did it damn near every day, after all. Still, for whatever reason, he hadn't seen it coming. Maybe it had just been that last potion on the list – Love Binding Potion. There was something intriguing about that name. Harry couldn't quite place the feeling, but he felt as though he needed to know what it was. It was as if it somehow pertained to him. As if it was somehow connected to his life. And then that git Malfoy had laughed at him with that cocky little smirk of his. Oh, how he hated Malfoy! Why couldn't he have just stayed a ferret? Now, at least that was somewhat of an improvement. Harry chuckled at the memory before turning back to the list and circling the last potion.

Love Binding Potion. Snape had said that was the most difficult one on the list. But…maybe Harry could use that to his advantage. It meant that none of the other students were likely to choose it. Then he wouldn't have to compete for books (if he could find any anyway). Still, Snape had gloated that the essay was really only the beginning of this ridiculous project. In fact, Harry figured they would be expected to brew these potions at some point. What if Snape meant it was difficult to brew? Then what would Harry do? And what kind of potion was it? Would he have to test it on himself? Somehow, that didn't sound too appealing.

It took at least fifteen minutes for Harry to locate a book about binding potions. First he had looked for love potions, but the Love Binding Potion wasn't listed in any of them. But that made sense. It couldn't be a traditional love potion; those were far too common and far too easy. Binding potions were very rare, though. In fact, there was only the one book about them in the entire library. Now to find love binding…love binding… love binding…

**Love Binding Potion**

Harry frowned at the book. Of course he would choose the most impossible thing. He had expected at least a chapter on the potion, but there was less than half a page. He started reading the ingredients list first.

"**Love Binding Potion**

**Ingredients:**

**1 Unicorn Hair**

**6 Rose Petals**

**4 Drops Morning Dew**

**2 Dragon Scales**

**2 Large Seashells Filled with River Water**

**1 Drop of Blood Each from Two Lovers**

**6 Crushed Pumpkin Seeds**

**1 Rindill's Feather…****"**

Harry stopped there. Rindill's feather? _What the hell is a rindill's feather_, he thought to himself. Deciding it was best to just ask Hermione, he was about to put the book away when something caught his eye. Someone had lightly circled the word "Rindill" and drawn a line from it. Written in the margin of the page in soft yet erratic feminine handwriting was, "**What the bloody hell is a Rindill!**" Harry couldn't help himself; he started laughing hysterically right there at the table, earning him a sharp shush from Madam Pince. He did his best to pull in his laughter and look back at the delicate, but very angry, writing. _I was thinking the exact same thing, _he thought to himself. He moved to close the book, but then thought better of it. Taking out his quill, he added underneath the delicate writing, "**You got me. Let me know if you find out." **Then he closed the book, and put it back in its place.

* * *

Crabbe and Goyle walked securely at his side as Draco Malfoy strode out of the Great Hall. It was always so hard to enjoy his meal when he had to see that know-it-all mudblood and the Weasel looking all cozy together at the Gryffindor table. Just pathetic. And so disgusting! _What will their kids look like_, Draco mused. Hmmph. Buck-toothed, frizzy, redheaded nitwits that talk too much and think they know everything but really have the Weasel's IQ. That sounded about right. Well, that was their own business if they wanted to produce a rabbit hole full of frizzed out weasels. Draco just didn't want to have to see them going at it in the Great Hall. Not that they really were, but still. At least if he ever had his own children there would be enough Weasleys to pick on. But then again, Draco didn't think he ever would; it wasn't likely with the secret he kept.

But he had no choice. His father could never know the truth. No one could ever know. It would only make him bait for the Dark Lord. He was a pureblood, and in pureblood families like his the most important thing was to keep the bloodline going. He was expected to do as his ancestors had done. Find a beautiful pureblooded wife and produce beautiful pureblooded heirs. So there was no way Draco could ever let anyone know that he was pretty damn sure he was gay. He could just imagine his father's reaction. First, he would try to beat it out of him. Shove the Dark Lord's teachings down his throat. Threaten to disown him, to kill him, even to hand him over to the Dark Lord. And when it failed, which of course it would because Draco couldn't change who he was, his father would surrender him to his Lord and he would be made an example of. So there were really only two things he could do: he could hide that part of himself and do as he was expected to do, or he could die. Either way he felt he was dying – and that made him so damn angry all of the time!

And then there had been the Weasel and Granger – obviously in love. Oh good grief! It just wasn't fair! He could never have that. It just wasn't right. But wait…HE was DRACO MALFOY. He was the prince of Slytherin. He didn't need love. That crap was for Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. Not him. He was above all that mushy stuff. One day, he would be the most powerful Death Eater of them all. Respected, just like his father. A wicked grin crossed his face. Everything would be just fine after all.

"Draco, do you realize you look like you want to kill something right now?" Crabbe interrupted his reverie. Goyle snorted his agreement.

"Well, I suppose I am feeling a little murderous," Draco drawled. "Now if only Potter were here."

And then, suddenly, there was Harry Potter rushing down the hallway towards the Great Hall, clearly running late.

"Well, if it isn't Scarhead. We were just talking about you, weren't we?" Draco asked his two companions with an evil yet mischievous glint to his voice. They grunted approvingly, obviously glad to get the chance to see their leader hex Potter into next Sunday.

"Not now, Malfoy," Harry warned angrily. "I actually want some dinner tonight."

"Well then, Potter, you should have been on time," Draco taunted. "What's the matter? Little Scarhead hasn't learned to tell time yet?" His two thugs chuckled stupidly at their leader's side.

"You know what! Just shove off, Malfoy!" Harry demanded as he pushed past the blond Slytherin.

However, there was no way in hell Draco was going to make it that easy. He pulled his wand out of his robes and aimed it at his nemesis. Harry was quicker, though. After all, he had come to expect that kind of foul play from Malfoy.

"Expelliarmus!" he shouted, disarming a very pissed off Draco Malfoy. Then he turned and walked into the Great Hall to join his friends.

"Bloody hell, Potter!" Draco hollered after him. Crabbe and Goyle sighed loudly behind him, disappointed that they hadn't witnessed something a bit more exciting. "Oh, shut it!" Draco ordered sharply. "I'm going to the library to work on my essay."

* * *

Once Draco arrived at his usual table in the library, he pulled out his assignment sheet and glared at his Potions list. The Love Binding Potion. That was the one he had chosen. He didn't know why. It did sound a little sissy. However, his godfather said that it was the most difficult. It would be a great way to impress him and make Potter look pathetic. Well, more pathetic than usual. And how hard could it possibly be? He wondered what evil he could use it for. His father would like that if he did something really evil, especially if it was to Potter. Or maybe he could use the spell on himself. That way he could produce an heir. Of course, it couldn't really change him, but if it could make him believe he loved whatever social-climbing, heartless, snake of a pureblooded woman his father would approve of, then maybe he could at least think he was happy until the day came when he finally died. Hmm, but that didn't seem likely. It wasn't a love spell. It was in the binding book. So what exactly did it do? He would have to find out.

He pulled out a thick, blue book from one of the shelves. The book on binding spells. He had been looking at it earlier, but he had gotten stumped on the ingredients list. There was some weird thing that he'd never heard of. He'd have to do more research. What was it? He flipped to the appropriate page. Rindill's feather. Nope, he had never heard of that. Some rare creature no doubt.

Then his eye shifted over to the little "temper tantrum" he'd had when he first saw the list. "**What the bloody hell is a Rindill!**" He blushed slightly at the words. It was a little embarrassing. What would people think if they saw the perfectly composed Slytherin prince having an anger management crisis with a text book? He took his quill out and prepared to scratch it out when he saw handwriting he didn't recognize. "**You got me. Let me know if you find out." **he read.

What was this? Was someone making fun of him? No, it seemed sincere enough. But who wrote it? Someone smart enough to tackle the most difficult potion, he considered. Mudblood? At this thought, Draco inspected the handwriting more carefully. Too messy to be Granger. Obviously male, in Draco's opinion. Hmm…then maybe someone stupid enough to bite off more than he can chew. Potter? But no…there is something almost…flirtatious about this writing. _Golden Boy Potter is so pathetic and clueless he wouldn't know the first thing about flirting. Thank Merlin! _Draco mused, disgusted at the thought. No, there was something decidedly Slytherin about this whole thing. Yes, that was it! A Slytherin.

Draco took a moment to think about what his next course of action should be. _I shouldn't do anything about this, _he chided. _I mean, I'm pretty sure this is a bloke. I already decided to follow my father and the Dark Lord. I can't…but…DAMN IT! _With that, Draco pulled out a piece of paper and began to write.

Suddenly, a horrifying thought struck him.

"Oh Merlin! What if it's Crabbe or Goyle!" he shouted.

"Shh!" Madam Pince reminded him. Draco looked back down to his paper. _Nah, those idiots don't even know how to spell. _And so Draco wrote his note to the mysterious student who was clearly sly enough to impress Snape by doing the most difficult potion. The student that was so much like himself. The student who would maybe understand him.

"**This assignment is dumb! The potion is the most worthless thing I've ever studied! And this book is so old I might as well use it in place of mold to make a potion that's actually worth something! Hope you're having better luck."**

Okay, so maybe not the kindest reply, but to get any kind of response from Draco Malfoy should be considered a great honor. He then tucked the note into the book, placed it back on the shelf, and went to ask Severus what a rindill was.


	2. Potion Trouble

**Chapter 2: Potion Trouble**

The first thing the trio saw when they entered the Potions classroom the next morning was the group of Slytherins huddled in the back of the room. Apparently they found something extremely hilarious. Malfoy, of course, was the center of attention and Harry couldn't help but notice the smug look on his face. _What now? _He wondered, completely exasperated already.

"Well look who it is," the blond Slytherin drawled, his silver eyes mocking the other boy. "Potter." The name was practically spat from his lips. "I would have thought you would have more sense than to show your face around here. What with what happened yesterday and all." Several Slytherins began to chuckle at the remark; if they noticed the heated glares the Gryffindors were shooting at them, they paid it no mind.

"What the hell are you talking about Malfoy!" Harry shot back.

"Well," Malfoy sneered, "after dinner in the Great Hall, I was just minding my own business when Potter here attacked me for no reason. He was rushing down the hall like a rabid dog – eyes crazed, drool clinging to his chin," Malfoy smiled amusedly, "and made a threat on my life!" Hermione and Ron gasped at the ridiculous accusation, but Draco continued undeterred. "Fortunately, I was able to use 'Expelliarmus' before the fool could lift his wand. Crabbe and Goyle saw the whole thing." Somehow, the blond managed to sound completely scandalized throughout the lie.

"Oh Draco!" Pansy cried as she draped herself on the Slytherin's shoulder. "How awful for you!"

"You bloody liar!" Harry shouted back. "_You_ attacked _me,_ Malfoy!"

"That's not what we saw," Crabbe said, smirking towards Draco.

"Harry would never do that," Neville Longbottom muttered from his seat. The other Gryffindors nodded their agreement. Meanwhile, Ron's complexion had begun to turn as red as his hair and Hermione was trying desperately to calm him down.

"Shut the hell up, Ferret Face!" Ron warned furiously, and with the mention of that name, Draco's eyes narrowed into silver slits of fury.

"It's not my fault Potter's jealous of me, Weasel," Draco spat at the fuming redhead. Harry had had just about enough. He looked just as furious as Draco, and noticing the frightening change in his nemesis's countenance, Draco drew out his wand. However, Harry was far beyond the point of dueling. As Draco approached, arm outstretched and wand aimed at the chest of The-Boy-Who-Lived, Harry followed his first instinct and shoved the other boy hard into the nearest table. It took a second for Draco to recover from the surprise, eyes wide in disbelief.

"I'm not going to have a bloody muggle fight with you, Potter!" he snapped.

"Chicken?" Harry asked.

"More like 'ferret.'" Ron smirked, infuriating the blond to the breaking point. Draco carefully tucked his wand safely into his robes, and then pounced on the golden boy like a wolf on a deer. Hermione rolled her eyes. The other students gathered around the fight, excitedly calling out to their school mates.

"That's it, Draco! Teach him a lesson!" Pansy shouted.

"Go on, mate! Rip his eyes out!" Ron cheered.

"Show him how it's done, Draco!" Blaise called out to his friend. Draco dug his knee deep into Harry's gut causing him to gasp in pain. Harry countered with a fist to the Slytherin's left eye. The scuffle became more intense, the two boys rolling around wildly on the floor of the Potions classroom. Each boy was grabbing the other by the hips and throwing him down, fighting desperately for dominance.

"Um, Harry," Hermione cautioned. "Are you sure this is a good idea? Snape could be here any minute!"

"He already is," a silky voice cut through the room like a chimera's fang through a rabbit. Not a breath could be heard. No one dared move but the two boys on the floor who pulled away from one another instantly, gasping painfully for breath.

"And what, exactly, is happening here?" Snape's cold voice inquired.

"Malfoy…" Harry began, but he was interrupted as Snape briskly, and quite menacingly, practically floated towards him with long, black robes billowing behind him.

"I've heard quite enough from you, Potter," Snape warned icily. "Oh yes, always the hero and never to blame. Just like your father, never taking responsibility for your actions; a self-righteous little twit. Tell me, how exactly did Mr. Malfoy find himself under your arse, Potter?" Several giggles broke out at the statement, but the room became immediately hushed as Snape harshly yanked the young Gryffindor off of Draco Malfoy. "And now here you are making a mockery out of my classroom. Fifty points from Gryffindor!" he finished.

"But Sir!" Ron cut in. "That's not fair! Malfoy…"

"And another five. I suggest you shut your trap, Mr. Weasley, before your pathetic house is in debt to Hogwarts for the next hundred years," Snape sneered at the redhead. Draco let a triumphant smirk cross his delicate features.

"Serves you right, Potter," he drawled.

"Not so fast, Mr. Malfoy," Snape interrupted, clearly disappointed with Draco's embarrassing behavior. "I will be expecting you and Potter in the dungeons tomorrow night at 8:00 to serve your detentions." Draco's face fell. "Now if there will be no more interruptions, sit down and get to work!" All of the students rushed to their seats at lightning speed and class was begun. The only sound being that of a very displeased Slytherin.

"I hate Harry Potter," Draco muttered to himself.

* * *

The trio shuffled into the Gryffindor common room that evening with the events of the morning still fresh in their minds. In fact, everyone had been talking about it all day. There wasn't a student at Hogwarts who didn't already know the story of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy getting into a muggle fist fight at the tip of the greasy Potions Master's shoes.

"Malfoy is such a git," Ron whined to his friends.

"I know," Hermione agreed. "Harry, I can't believe he just picked a fight with you for no reason like that."

"I can," Harry grumbled. "What I can't believe is that I have to sit in detention with HIM tomorrow night."

"Yeah, mate, but you have to admit it was worth it to give him that shiner," Ron laughed, eyebrows raised in amusement.

"I heard that Madam Pomfrey refused to heal it, so he'll have to walk around with it for a little while," Hermione informed. Harry smiled as he imagined the great black eye Malfoy would be sporting the next morning. Maybe detention wouldn't be so bad if he could stare at that all night. That's right, staring into Malfoy's eyes all night…THE BLACK EYE…Staring into…at…the black eye. That's what he meant. Merlin, he hated Malfoy.

"Hey, 'Mione," Ron asked, "remember that time you slugged Malfoy?"

"How could I forget, Ronald," Hermione reminisced, curious about what Ron was getting at.

"He went down a lot faster than when Harry hit him. Hey, mate, maybe you should take some lessons from my girlfriend," Ron teased. Hermione smiled broadly at the idea. She couldn't help but agree.

"Shut up, Ron," Harry said, but he was smiling too. Then, he suddenly remembered something he had wanted to ask Hermione. "'Mione?" he questioned.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Do you know what a rindill is?" Harry asked curiously.

"A rindill?" Hermione's face scrunched up into a look of utter confusion. Ron just watched the scene unfold curiously.

"Yeah…it's…some kind of creature…with feathers," he said.

"I really don't know. What is this about, Harry?" she asked.

"Oh, it's not important at the moment I guess. Actually, I don't know why I thought of it now," he admitted.

"Gee, Harry. Homework at a time like this," Ron complained to the two. "I take it back. Don't take lessons from Hermione."

"Harry," Hermione said as she contemplated his question, "I bet Hagrid would know. You should ask him. I'll do some research on it too."

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry said. "I don't know why I didn't think of that. I'll talk to Hagrid."

"No problem," she smiled.

* * *

Draco sat stewing in his own common room. Potter. That bloody buffoon was ruining his life as far as he was concerned. Thanks to that…that SCARHEAD, he would have to waste an evening in detention. What had Severus been thinking? Couldn't he see that it was all Potter's fault? It was always Potter's fault. From the first time he'd met him, there had been something infuriating about the other boy. Draco hated it. Potter plagued his thoughts. He was always there, in the back of his mind. Draco just couldn't figure out why. Well, Potter was damn annoying. That could be it. And the git was absolutely overflowing with Gryffindor stupidity. Even from the beginning he had refused Draco's hand in friendship. What a fool! But at least that worked out best for Draco. Draco was much too good to be seen with the likes of Potter. And soon he would be a Death Eater and then he would have Potter's head on a stake. That would be the day.

Potter just ruined everything. That's the way it was. He even managed to turn Severus against him. Maybe his godfather just thought he was contaminated because Potter had touched him. That made sense. Scarhead was clearly diseased – at least by his own pathetic existence. And who the hell did he think he was grabbing Draco like that?! Grabbing him and throwing him down…that had felt so goo…traumatizing! That's what it was.

"Potter will definitely pay for this," Draco mumbled to himself as the full force of the consequences finally struck him. The whole damn school was gossiping about it. Every single pathetic Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and even Slytherin was talking about the muggle style fight. His father would know of this. He would know, and he would be pissed.

"Well, I guess I can expect a howler by the end of the week," the Slytherin prince moaned. Then he stood up and walked over to the mirror, glaring at the black eye forming on his perfect face.

"Damn it, Potter!"

* * *

Harry sat alone in the library with the blue book spread open across his table. At least it got his mind off Malfoy and Snape for a while. Now, what page was that….Oh, that's right. Flipping through the pages, he came back to the section on the love binding potion. However, to Harry's surprise, a small note was neatly folded and tucked securely into the book. Harry grinned to himself. He hadn't really expected a response, but this was definitely an interesting turn of events. He unfolded the note to find the familiar handwriting.

"**This assignment is dumb! The potion is the most worthless thing I've ever studied! And this book is so old I might as well use it in place of mold to make a potion that's actually worth something! Hope you're having better luck."**

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at the other student's frustration. He also couldn't help but agree with the note. He was getting nowhere with this project. It was as if Snape was inventing new ways to torture him, and he was damn good at it.

He decided that the best thing to do would be to respond to the note. After all, he could use a little excitement. Well…he had plenty of excitement, but he could use a little of the positive kind. The kind that had absolutely nothing to do with Draco Malfoy. He took out his quill and wrote his own note to add to the book.

"**Actually, I haven't had any luck either. Still no clue what a rindill is, and I asked the smartest person I've met. Not to mention I've been having a really terrible day. I don't think I can really concentrate on this project at the moment.**

**P.S. Thanks for responding. Your note made my day.**"

The next afternoon, Harry returned to the library to see if the student with the hauntingly beautiful handwriting had returned. Sure enough, there was a fresh note replacing his own. It simply read:

"**Trust me, you couldn't possibly have had a worse day than I have. Do you know what it is like to have someone force themselves into your mind all of the damn time? It's annoying as hell.**

**P.S. I asked Professor Snape what a rindill was. He wouldn't tell me, but he said I should change my topic. Just a heads up.**"

_Very strong temper, _Harry thought to himself. But then again, he kind of liked that. Whoever this was, they were strong willed and very brave. _I mean, to actually approach Snape after that lecture about "using our heads." Or to even approach Snape at all for that matter. Must be a Gryffindor. I wonder who it is..._


	3. Detention Blues

**Chapter 3: Detention Blues**

Much to Harry's chagrin, his first class of the day was Potions. Harry hated that class with a passion. It meant the first thing he was forced to deal with while still slightly groggy with sleep was Snape's snarky sarcasm. To make matters worse, it was a double dose of Slytherin torture with that git Malfoy in the class. Oh yes, Harry hated Potions, and he especially hated it that morning when a well-timed spell by Malfoy made Harry spill the contents of his potion all over Professor Snape himself. As realization struck, fury shot across the man's cold expression, twisting his features into a wicked, bone-chilling glare. Harry was dumbstruck. He didn't dare move; didn't speak a word; didn't even let the breath escape his lungs as he stood beneath the angry and rigid form of the bat-like professor who had thick clumps of brown goop dripping heavily from his dark, greasy hair. Malfoy snickered behind him.

"Potter!" The sticky Potions Master bellowed menacingly.

"I…I didn't…" Harry began, but Snape cut him off abruptly as Malfoy continued to snicker in the background.

"_You didn't mean to_?" Snape mocked the boy icily. "Of course not," he continued in a taunting voice. "Our Savior _Potter_ would never _mean _to do anything. Perfect little Potter and his perfect Gryffindor ideals. Perhaps it is just that you are that much of an insufferable little clod? A useless, pathetic, ignorant klutz. Is that it?" Snape finished, his voice slow, dry, and frightening with its restrained sense of utter loathing. However, Harry's surprise had quickly given way to an escalating rage at the man's accusations.

"What I was going to say," Harry spat between clenched teeth, "was that _I _didn't do it. Malfoy…"

"Malfoy?" Snape drawled curiously. "I've heard this song before, _Potter. _Yes, it is always Mr. Malfoy, isn't it?" At this turn of events Draco Malfoy's snickering turned into amused snorts.

"As a matter of fact it is!" Harry insisted. Ron and Hermione, who had been standing behind Harry in shock since the potion had gone flying off the desk, finally managed to regain their senses. Hermione placed her hand on her friend's shoulder, offering support, and Ron turned vehemently towards the gaping Malfoy.

"Why don't you just confess, Malfoy! I saw you cast that spell," the redhead insisted, but Snape would have none of it.

"Sit down, Weasley!" he warned. "Do not try to shift the blame this time, Potter. It is time you learned to take responsibility for your actions. Fifty points from Gryffindor!"

"But sir!" the Gryffindors groaned instinctively, but quickly quivered away as Snape turned on them angrily, still dripping the mucky brown substance. However, Harry was too angry to be intimidated.

"You're right," the infuriated Gryffindor stated calmly when the Potions Master turned his back. "I shouldn't blame Malfoy." The other Gryffindors gasped loudly, poor Ron's eyes practically bugging out of his head. "I should thank him." Snape whipped around to face Harry.

"Potter," he drawled as he pulled a handful of the warm goop from his robes. "This _potion, _if it can be called that," he sneered in a silky yet evil tone, "is too thick. It should be a thin, _green _liquid. Your incompetence knows no bounds. I will be seeing you in detention for the next month."

As the trio left the Potions classroom that morning, the hallway was in an uproar with the stories of the previous events. However, the award for most excited would have definitely gone to Ron Weasley. The redhead bounced merrily around his friend.

"That's bloody awful about those detentions, mate," he offered sympathetically before regaining his cheerful smile. "But you really handed it to Snape!"

"Ron!" Hermione scolded. "Don't encourage him." She then turned to Harry. "Harry, Snape deserved it. Believe me, I know how you feel. But you can't let him get to you like that. You played right into Malfoy's hands."

"Yeah, I can't believe that git is getting away with it!" Ron whined loudly.

"And not to mention your studies, Harry." Hermione added. "Isn't it obvious? Snape gave you those detentions so you wouldn't have time to finish your Potions essay."

"Don't worry about it 'Mione," Harry reassured her. "I'll just work on it before dinner. Besides…I uh…I might have some help." Hermione looked at him curiously. She opened her mouth to ask him what he meant, but was interrupted by Ron's booming voice.

"Oh Merlin! Looks like Ferret Face is coming over to gloat," Ron said. Harry looked down the hall, and sure enough, there was Draco Malfoy heading straight towards him. However, he didn't look like he wanted to gloat. In fact, he didn't look happy at all. He looked downright pissed.

"I don't want your damn gratitude, Potter!" Malfoy shouted as he reached Harry. "So next time you have something you want to say about me, just sod the bloody hell off!"

"What the hell is your problem, Malfoy?" Harry spat back, Ron getting ready to back up his friend if this turned physical again.

"You know what, Potter?" Malfoy asked his rival heatedly. "You really are a clod. You just don't get it!" And then the upset blond turned around and stormed off.

"I think Malfoy is finally losing it," Ron muttered to Harry.

* * *

The Gryffindors' next class of the morning was Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was definitely an improvement, especially since Hogwarts had agreed to take back Professor Lupin. It was a great relief for Harry to be able to see his old friend again. Sirius's death had been so hard on the both of them, and it was a relief to be able to talk to someone who truly understood the loss he was feeling. However, there was one downside. This year really was not looking up for Harry Potter. The Gryffindors also shared this class with the Slytherins. As far as Harry was concerned, mornings at Hogwarts were pure Slytherin torment.

As he entered the classroom and sat down quietly with his friends, Remus offered him a gentle smile. The man's graying hair seemed even grayer, and his appearance was slightly more disheveled and haggard since Sirius's death, but there was still an air of strength and warmth about him. Malfoy and his two cretins slid into the seats behind the trio.

"You do know why they took the werewolf back?" Harry heard Malfoy drawl to his two companions. "They were forced to because no one else would take the position. I'm just surprised the parents would allow it, but the fools are too busy fawning over Dumbledore." Harry turned to the blond, green eyes blazing. However, Ron beat him to it.

"Why don't you just shut up, Malfoy," Ron warned. "No one wants your opinion. And by the way, nice eye."

"Why don't you…" Malfoy began, but was interrupted by Professor Lupin starting class.

"I want to start this class period by reviewing some of the defensive spells you should have learned last year. I think we're all a little bit behind. I want you to form groups of two..." Remus was explaining.

"Do you want to get back at Malfoy?" Ron asked Harry mischievously.

"What do you have in mind?" Harry responded. Hermione just rolled her eyes.

"I'm going to work with Neville. I think I've had enough excitement for one day," Hermione exclaimed as she left the two boys to their planning.

"Girls," Ron stated knowingly earning him an amused smile from Harry. "Anyway, I got some great stuff from Fred and George…"

Half an hour later the students were still working in pairs when a sudden shriek rang through the classroom.

"What's wrong, Draco?" Pansy Parkinson asked her partner with a concerned look in her eyes.

"Something poked me," he whispered back.

"Oh Merlin, Draco! Your hair!" she screamed suddenly.

"What about it?" Malfoy demanded as the classroom broke out into hysterical laughter.

"It's blue!" she shrieked at him.

"Quiet down, please," Remus said as he approached Malfoy and Parkinson. This time it was Harry and Ron who got the last laugh, and they made sure Malfoy heard it. "Draco, what is going on with your hair?"

"I...I didn't…" the Slytherin stammered.

"Draco, I can't have you disrupting class like this. We're already far enough behind this year and…" Remus began.

"Good color choice, right, mate?" Ron whispered to Harry. "Kind of matches the shiner." However, it was clear that Malfoy heard this, and he was about to snap.

"It was fucking Potter!" Malfoy shouted shrilly. "Do you honestly think I would do this to myself? It's always fucking Potter and that…that…WEASEL!"

"Draco," Remus warned. "I'm sorry, but I can't allow these kinds of outbursts in my classroom. I'll have to give you detention."

"Wait until my father hears about this, _Werewolf,_" Malfoy warned with the most self-righteous air he could muster. Remus just sighed, completely exasperated with the entire situation.

"One month, Draco," Remus informed the seething ex-blond.

"One month? Are you mad?" Malfoy protested hotly.

"Draco, if Professor Snape feels that one month's detention is a proper punishment for an outburst in class," Remus explained as he looked in Harry's general direction, "who am I to disagree? Of course, since you already have detention with Professor Snape tonight, you can start tomorrow night," Remus told him before continuing the class. When it was time for the students to go, Remus casually asked Harry to stay behind for a few minutes. Harry said goodbye to his two best friends and went to join Remus.

"Harry, please tell me you didn't have anything to do with the blue hair," Remus pleaded.

"Remus…I'm sorry. In Potions…" Harry started to tell his friend and favorite teacher.

"I know about what happened in Potions, Harry. Neville told me. One month of detention. That's pretty tough," Remus sympathized.

"Although it was pretty funny to see Snape like that." Harry smiled, and Remus joined him this time.

"Yes, I'm sure it was," the werewolf mused. "But Harry, my werewolf side could practically feel the tension coming from that Malfoy boy when he walked in here today. I don't think you should have pushed him over the edge like that."

"You knew we did it? Then why did you give him detention?" Harry wondered.

"It wasn't for the blue hair, Harry. It was for the way he responded to it. If he had just talked to me, I would have listened," Remus assured his young student.

"Then you aren't like Snape," Harry said.

"Severus can be a little…hotheaded. But he isn't the enemy."

"I know, but what about Malfoy?" Harry interrupted.

"Death Eater or not, you have bigger enemies to worry about. There is a war, Harry. You have to know when to choose your battles," the older man advised him, and Harry knew he was right. It was childish to let Malfoy get to him so much. There was just something about him….

"You're right, Remus. I'll remember that."

"That's good, Harry. Although, I do have to admit…that was pretty funny," Remus said as he let a warm smile rest on his face.

"Yeah?" Harry asked.

"It was creative. It was something the Marauders would have done," the werewolf reminisced as Harry listened on intently.

* * *

Draco didn't go to the Great Hall for lunch that afternoon. Instead, he went straight to the Slytherin dormitory, into the showers, and tried to scrub the blue out of his hair. He was having no luck whatsoever as he angrily scrubbed himself raw. He took no comfort in the caressing, warm touch of the water flowing down his body or the soft feel of steam accumulating around him. He was just frustrated, plain and simple, as he played the day's events once more through his mind.

It had all started that morning when precious little Saint Potter came strolling into the Potions classroom with his little sidekicks like he owned the whole world. It was pathetic, really. Then the mudblood and the Weasel paired off. Potter got stuck working with the imbecile, Longbottom, much to Draco's delight. It was no surprise that those idiots couldn't even concoct a simple potion. The thing looked abysmal. It wasn't even the right color. How did those two even make it into the class? Still, it was quite amusing for Draco to watch the fools desperately add the wrong ingredients trying to thin it out, only reinforcing its muddy brown shade. In fact, it was so amusing that Draco hadn't noticed his own potion falling into ruin. He glanced down to see a slight sediment formulating at the base.

"Shit, Blaise!" he complained to his own partner.

"Don't look at me, Draco. We were supposed to let it sit for two minutes and then _you _were supposed to stir it," Blaise reminded the annoyed Slytherin.

"I was distracted!" he snapped in justification.

"Well, don't blame me," Blaise stated very matter-of-factly. "You don't need to be staring at Potter all the damned time."

"I do not _stare_ at Potter," the blond drawled defensively.

"Whatever you say, Draco."

"Shit!" Draco exclaimed as he saw Professor Snape walk down the aisle to check the potions. "Severus is coming. Fix it! Quick!"

"All right! All right! Maybe if…if I can make it mix together really fast…" the other Slytherin wondered.

"Just do something!"

"Okay, okay! I just don't know the spell. I… Oh Merlin." With that, the panicked Blaise Zabini hurriedly flicked his wand forward, mumbling a combination of levitation and speed spells, completely missing his own potion. Instead, Potter and Longbottom's potion went flying right into Severus, drenching him with the thick, brown mess. Draco winced, but when he looked again he saw the angry expression on Severus's face. Potter wasn't even breathing, and the Weasel was gaping like a fish. Now this wasn't so bad. Actually, it was downright hilarious. Draco couldn't repress the snicker at the look on the Griffindors' faces. Then Potter started stuttering, and Severus really let him have it. This was great stuff! However, the tables were about to be turned.

"What I was going to say was that _I _didn't do it. Malfoy…" Potter accused. Draco couldn't even believe it. Potter was going to try to pin it on him! Did Potter actually think…Of course he did! Potter blamed Draco for everything. What a git! Leave it to Potter to jump to conclusions with absolutely no facts. At least Severus stood up for him, bringing Draco back to himself. He couldn't help himself. He began laughing that much harder as the tables were being turned back on Potter. Then, suddenly, something happened. Potter crossed a line. He actually went as far as to claim that everything (EVERTHING!) was always Draco's fault! The Slytherin became deathly quiet.

"Why don't you just confess, Malfoy! I saw you cast that spell," Weasley accused loudly. So that was it then? The Weasel was nothing but a lying little rat? It shouldn't have bothered or surprised Draco. After all, it was just the Weasel, and why should he care what that rodent said about him? But…even so….Draco couldn't help but gape at the accusation. He couldn't even enjoy the fact that Potter got a month's worth of detention for his little show.

After that, the rest of the morning was all downhill. Draco tried to let it go, for now. He would get Potter later. But then, Potter struck first by making a mockery of him in front of the entire Defense class and that idiot werewolf. Now he was stuck with blue hair and a month of detention to match Potter's. Mornings at Hogwarts were nothing but Gryffindor hell.

It was always the same damn thing, Draco thought as he continued to scrub at his blue hair. Everyone was always casting him as the villain, blaming him for every underhanded, dastardly thing. And Saint Potter was always the first to point the accusatory finger. But…Draco wasn't a villain. Not really. At least, he didn't want to be. It wasn't like he had much of a choice, though. He had to follow his father's teachings and beliefs. He had to, or he would pay the price with his life. By all appearances, Draco was the perfect Death Eater in training, but on the inside he was screaming to be set free. He didn't even like using the word "mudblood." To him, it was a disgusting, filthy word used to degrade people who simply couldn't help the way they were born. He understood that. Hell, he related to that. He imagined the words they would call him if they knew the truth, and he cringed. No, Draco wasn't evil. He certainly wasn't a nice guy either, though. Far from it in fact. He just wasn't evil. He was a coward, and he did what he had to do for his own survival. He was a Slytherin, not a Gryffindor. He handled the situation thus, and that's just the way it was. But no one would understand that. Potter wouldn't understand that. Of course, he didn't need Potter to understand. Potter was an idiot, and Draco hated him. That would never change.

Although…maybe there was one person who could understand. Or at least, someone who would be willing to listen. Draco hurriedly dressed himself, hair still deep blue, and rushed to the library. He pulled the blue book from the shelf and took it to his table, thrusting it open and finding a new note replacing the one he had left.

"**Thanks for the heads up. I don't really think I want to change my topic yet, though. Maybe we can help each other if you're still working on it? Anyway, I know what you mean about someone invading your thoughts. Happens to me all the time, but not in a good way.**

**That was brave of you to ask Snape. I think I have a lead on the rindill thing. I'll let you know what I find."**

Draco smiled momentarily at the note. He also didn't intend to give up on this potion yet. He wasn't afraid of a challenge, and besides, this essay was the least of his worries. He took out his quill and spilled his emotions into the anonymous note he would leave for this unknown friend.

* * *

Malfoy wasn't in the Great Hall during lunch. Harry noticed that right away. Ron actually seemed disappointed about it.

"I bet he's trying to get the blue out," Ron mused. "Too bad he isn't here, though. Between the black eye you gave him and the blue hair I gave him, it's pretty funny."

"I don't want to think about Malfoy anymore, Ron," Harry told his friend seriously. "Remus was right. He doesn't matter right now."

"Well, I'm glad _some _of us want to be mature, _Ronald," _Hermione complained to her boyfriend.

"Hey, it's not like you never hit him," the redhead whined indignantly.

"And I would gladly do it again if he had it coming," Hermione stated with a smile. "But for now, we're even. Harry, did you talk to Hagrid yet?"

"I haven't gotten a chance yet," Harry told her.

"Hi, Harry!" Ginny called out as she approached the group.

"Hi, Ginny," Harry replied as she sat down next to him. "How are you?"

"I'm good. I heard about your detentions! All month? That's just ridiculous. How are you going to get all of your homework done?" the redhead asked sympathetically.

"That's exactly what I asked him." Hermione chipped in.

"Oh, um. I have some time before dinner usually," Harry said.

"Yeah, but it will be tight with Quidditch practice, won't it?" Ginny asked quickly.

"Yes, I suppose…" Harry conceded.

"What is it with you lot and studying?" Ron complained half-heartedly, earning him a playful jab from his girlfriend.

"Because I was just thinking," Ginny continued enthusiastically, "that maybe we could study together sometimes. Or even if you just want to get together and talk, that would be okay too. I just want you to know that I'm here for you. The thing is, Harry, I…" Just then a very late and still blue-haired Draco Malfoy entered the Great Hall, looked around, determined it was too late to start lunch, glared coldly at Harry, and marched back out. Clearly, this moving on thing was going to be a lot more difficult than he had originally anticipated. Harry glared at the now empty doorway.

"Malfoy…" he muttered coldly as his fists clenched.

"Merlin, Harry!" Ginny interrupted his thoughts. "I'm trying to tell you that I like you and all you can say is 'Malfoy?'"

"I…what?" Harry stammered uncomfortably as Ron once again did his fish impression.

"Harry, are you all right?" Hermione asked as she reached out for him, but Harry was on his feet before her hand could make it across the table.

"I'm fine. I…I don't feel well. I need to take a walk before class," he said quickly before rushing out of the Great Hall.

"Gin, that was a little forward. Don't you think?" Ron interrogated his younger sister.

"I didn't mean to say that!" she blurted. "I need to go after him." Then Ginny Weasley got up from the Gryffindor table and ran after Harry Potter.

* * *

Harry was pacing the halls, mind in a frazzle. Ginny…she…she liked him? That should have been great news. That should have made him ecstatic, but it didn't. It confused him because it wasn't what he wanted. Ginny was a beautiful girl. She was smart, kind, sweet…. She was the perfect girl for him. Yet, he couldn't imagine himself with her. It wasn't right. He wanted something else, someone else. He had never really been interested in girls. Sure, there was Cho. He had once thought he wanted to be with her, but when he was…he knew he couldn't love her in the way he wanted to. It would have made his life so much easier if he could, but it just wasn't there. It never really had been.

And now here was Ginny, and Harry knew it would turn out just the same. He would never feel right about it. But he loved Ginny, and he didn't want to hurt her like that. Deep down, he suspected the truth, but he always ignored it. It was easier that way. If he really thought about it, if he accepted it, then things would change…forever. And now was not a good time for change. They were on the brink of war. The entire wizarding world put their lives in his hands. They called him the "Golden Boy," "a savior." They expected him to play the part, to be perfect. But what would happen if…if…

"Harry!" Ginny ran up to him and grasped at his arm. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened back there. I shouldn't have said that in front of everyone. It's just that I like you a lot."

"I'm sorry too, Gin," Harry told her truthfully. "I shouldn't have run off like that. It caught me off guard."

"Harry, do you think we could…"

"Ginny, listen, you are like a sister to me. I love you, I just…" Harry tried to let her down easily.

"Like a sister? Harry…why? Why can't you think of me in that way? Do you think I'm too young?" she asked him clearly and directly, expecting just as direct a response, but Harry wasn't prepared to give her one.

"Ginny, it's not you. It's me," he tried to tell her.

"They all say that," she told him, a sad smile gracing her lips.

"But I mean it," he told her as sincerely as he could, and she believed him. "Ginny…I…I…"

"Please tell me," she pleaded with him.

"I can't. I'm sorry. Not yet, Ginny," was all he could give her. "But I promise that one day I will."

"Okay, Harry," And she embraced him warmly. "It'll be okay."

* * *

That evening before dinner, Harry sat in the library near the shelf containing the blue book on binding potions. As soon as he was sure no one else was in that part of the library, he took the book from the shelf and flipped through it in search of a note from the interesting, temperamental person with the beautiful handwriting. He was relieved to find it between the usual pages. This time the handwriting seemed especially erratic and emotional. It reminded Harry of what he himself was feeling, and he began to read.

"**Do you ever feel like NOBODY understands you? Like your whole life is a lie? Like everyone thinks you're something you're not? I don't even know why I'm telling you this. I guess it's just because I don't know you and you don't know me so you don't have the same expectations of me. I'm just sick and tired of hiding and pretending to be what everyone else thinks I am. I am tired of hearing the comments and feeling the stares. I am just tired of the whole damn thing.**

**I apologize for the rant, but I am having a really bad day that you wouldn't even believe. It's just that no one gets it and no one wants to get it. Why can't people just slow down and ask a question before assuming things about people? Whatever! I don't care anymore.**

**Anyway, I still want to work on the potion. I'll let you know what I find too. We'll get it done faster if we work together. **

**P.S. Don't show this note to anyone or I will hex the bloody hell out of you!**"

Harry stared down at the note in utter shock. _I do know how you feel, _he thought to himself. _I know exactly how you feel. _In this one note was everything he had ever wanted to say, well except for the hexing part. Then, Harry made a decision. If this person could be so open and tell him something so personal, he could return the sentiment. He took out some fresh paper and began to write.

* * *

Harry entered the dungeons at exactly 8:00 that evening. Malfoy, of course, was already there. His black eye looked more like a shadow in the dimly lit room, and his blue hair hung loose and damp about his face, lacking the normal plastered back look. Obviously, he had been washing it all evening and hadn't had time to gel it before coming to detention. It made him look almost human, and Harry couldn't help but think he looked much better this way. Actually, he looked quite ni…Nevermind. Snape swept into the room with his robes billowing behind him.

"Ah, on time I see, Potter," he commented dryly before looking disapprovingly at Draco's blue hair. "This way." He led the two into another room filled with used potion bottles. "I want the two of you to clean out each and every one of these bottles, by hand of course, and I expect there will be _no _further trouble. I assure you, I will know if there is, _Potter. _And Draco, I expect you to do something about that ridiculous hair color before you come to my classroom tomorrow." With that, the man swept out of the room just as quickly as he had come. Harry glanced about the room and groaned loudly.

"There are hundreds of them. This will take all night," he complained with a heavy sigh.

"No thanks to you for getting me this detention, Potter," Malfoy drawled contemptuously.

"Me? This was all your doing Malfoy! You started that fight…" Harry protested only to be cut off by Malfoy.

"I started it? You shoved me into a table!" he reminded the Gryffindor indignantly.

"You lied about our dual!" Harry shot back.

"So it's a crime for me to lie, but it's perfectly fine for the Weasel to do it…"

"Don't call him that! Besides, you picked that fight for no reason!" Harry shouted at the pompous blond…uh…blue-haired Slytherin.

"You used 'Expelliarmus' on me!" Malfoy justified.

"You attacked me in the hallway!"

"You were running down the hall like you own it, all high and mighty, looking smug…"

"You look smug all the time, Malfoy! In fact, you look smug right now!"

"And you look like a jackass right now!"

"Shut up, Malfoy!"

"Oh, clever one Potter," Malfoy drawled as he reached for his wand. "I think it's time we finish our dual, right now."

"That's fine with me if you want to lose like every other time!" Harry taunted the fuming teen as he pulled out his own wand. Suddenly, Snape was upon them from seemingly out of nowhere with his own wand furiously drawn.

"Stop wasting time and get to work," the man warned them dangerously. "If even one of these is broken when I come back it will be very unfortunate for you both."

"Yes, sir," the two rivals conceded, and Snape once again left the room. This time they set to work, quietly and without so much as a look in the other's direction. Harry decided the best way to avoid a fight was not to even acknowledge Malfoy's presence, and so he worked on his half of the bottles diligently without even looking up. An hour later, they were both still hard at work, though they had made quite a bit of progress. Still, there was something bothering Harry. There was something Malfoy had said that was hovering over Harry, clawing at his brain, and refusing to let go. What had Malfoy meant when he said Ron had lied? Harry was admittedly curious, but asking the stony Slytherin was absolutely out of the question. However, what about what the intriguing stranger had written to him…

"**Why can't people just slow down and ask a question before assuming things about people?**"

For some reason, Harry felt as though he could trust this stranger. He felt as though this person knew what they were talking about. Maybe he could ask Malfoy….Maybe he _should _ask Malfoy. As absurd as it seemed…

"Ah, Malfoy?" the Gryffindor ventured.

"Fuck! What do you want, Potter?" Malfoy responded, clearly annoyed that Harry was addressing him.

"What did you mean before about it being fine for Ron to lie?" Harry asked curiously and without malice.

"I don't have to tell you anything, Potter," Malfoy spat.

"Fine, I don't want to talk to you anyway!" Harry responded coldly. _I knew this was a mistake, _he thought. _Malfoy is such a git. I can't believe I let myself think there might be any more to him for even a second. _But then, the impossible happened. Malfoy sighed to himself, still not looking up from the bottle he was scrubbing.

"I didn't do it," he said quietly, most likely to himself.

"Didn't do what?" Harry inquired.

"I didn't cast the damn spell on your bloody potion, Potter!" Malfoy bit out as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"But Ron said…" Harry tried to justify, but Malfoy was done listening.

"Yeah, well, _Ron _can just shove it because I had nothing to do with it. You aren't that damn special, Potter. Believe it or not, I don't sit around all day plotting ways to sabotage your pathetic little potions. You do that quite well on your own," Malfoy drawled with a fake sense of superiority.

"Oh," was all Harry could say.

"'Oh' what, Potter?"

"I shouldn't have assumed. That's all," Harry confessed nonchalantly.

"You mean you believe me?" Malfoy questioned the Gryffindor in disbelief.

"Well, yeah," Harry told him as he rolled his eyes. "I mean, it's _you, _Malfoy. If you did it, you'd want to brag about it. You'd be gloating about how you got me a month's worth of detention, not telling me you didn't do it. Actually, I'm surprised you don't want to take credit for it anyway."

At that, Malfoy's body went rigid and his eyes widened in contemplation before narrowing into a state of annoyance. Clearly the git was kicking himself for not thinking of that. But then again, he also seemed a little bit relieved, as though he were stuck in between the two options and didn't know which of them he should have taken. It was too late now, though.

"Look, I'll ask Ron to change your hair back," Harry offered casually. He still hated Malfoy, but he didn't want to torture the git if he really hadn't done it.

"Whatever, Potter," Malfoy drawled, the closest thing to a thank you he would ever give.

"Although," Harry thought aloud, "it's really too bad. With the darker hair, you don't look so Malfoyish…"

"Are you insulting my family, Potter?" Malfoy asked bemusedly. "Because I'll have you know, I _am _a Malfoy, and I'm proud of it. It's much better than being some half-blood…"

"Just shut up, Malfoy!" Harry warned, temper returning.

"Why don't you make me?" Malfoy mocked.

"Why are you so defensive?" Harry demanded.

"Why am I so defensive?" Malfoy sputtered. "I don't know, Potter. Why don't we talk about your loser family for a while?"

"At least my father wasn't a Death Eater!" Harry countered.

"No, your father was a pathetic muggle lover," Malfoy stated smugly. Harry pulled out his wand and shot a wild curse at Malfoy, who quickly ducked out of the way. The curse instead struck a row of glass potion bottles, shattering the lot across the stone cold floor. Harry and Malfoy gulped before turning to the doorway. A dark set of angry eyes pierced through their souls from a pale, unimpressed face. This was not going to end well.

* * *

It was almost 10:30 when Harry returned to his common room. It was empty except for Ron who sat waiting for him on the couch. Harry sat down heavily next to his redheaded friend, releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Tough night?" Ron asked him knowingly.

"Let's just say Snape is going to be making my life more miserable than usual for a very long time," Harry offered with a tired chuckle.

"Malfoy again?" Ron asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Of course," was all Harry said. He was tired, and he let his head fall back over the back of the couch.

"So, I talked to Ginny," Ron casually added to the conversation. Harry lifted his head back up off the couch.

"You did?" he asked slowly and cautiously.

"Yeah, Harry, if it's because you think it's weird that she's my sister…"

"Ron, it's not that," Harry interrupted.

"Because I don't think it's weird," his friend pushed on. "I mean, if you got married…"

"Ron!" Harry exclaimed, but it did not stop his friend.

"We'd be like brothers, mate," the redhead finally finished.

"Ron, we already are like brothers," Harry tried to assure his best friend.

"Yeah, but it would be official," the redhead announced excitedly.

"Please, Ron, I don't want to talk about this right now," Harry begged the dreamy Gryffindor.

"Sure, mate. Another time, then," Ron finally conceded. Harry would not be looking forward to that conversation.

"Hey, Ron?" Harry decided to ask his friend.

"Hmm?"

"In Potions today, did you really see Malfoy cast that spell?"

"What are you talking about, Harry? Of course it was Malfoy."

"Yeah, but did you see it?" Harry insisted of his best friend.

"I saw a spell come from his direction, Harry. Who else would it have been?" Ron justified in a voice that seemed to say "How obvious could it be?" Harry sighed exasperatedly and slouched deeper into the couch.

"But you didn't actually see Malfoy do it," Harry stated rather than asked.

"Mate, what is this about?" The redhead looked completely flabbergasted at his friend's state.

"He didn't do it, Ron. We need to change his hair back," Harry told him.

"Wait, are you serious, mate?" his friend gawked.

"We should slow down and ask a question before we assume things about someone," Harry recited thoughtfully.

"But even if he didn't do it, he still deserves…"

"I know, Malfoy's a right bastard, but he didn't do anything this time," Harry was forced to admit.

"All right, I'll take it off tomorrow." Ron agreed none too happy. Harry nodded slowly to himself before tiredly resting his head on the back of the couch once again and closing his eyes in utter exhaustion.

"But, Harry, about Ginny…"


	4. A Common Ground

**Chapter 4: A Common Ground**

Waking up the next morning had caused quite a fright for poor Draco Malfoy. He really wasn't a morning person so it was no surprise that when he woke up he was still in somewhat of a dreamy state. In his haziness, he had completely forgotten about the incident the day before, and when he stood in front of the mirror to brush his teeth he nearly jumped out of his skin at the shock of blue hair before him.

"Who's screaming at this time of the morning?" He heard Blaise's tired voice through the door, but he did not dignify the question with an answer. He grumbled quietly to himself as he went about his morning routine. Why did Potter always have to meddle in his life? Everything had to be so damned complicated all of the time. At least the Weasel was supposed to be removing this outrageous color. Then maybe things could be a little more normal. Of course, he would have to find a way to get it removed discreetly. He couldn't very well openly accept help from the Weasel and Potter. That would be a major hindrance to his reputation, but he couldn't walk around forever with blue hair either. He could just imagine what his father would say about that.

Really, the first thing Draco wanted to do that morning was go to the library and see if his new friend had left him any advice. Or any note at all would have been fine. Draco desperately needed some understanding contact with someone. However, if he missed breakfast he wouldn't be able to get the blue out before Severus's class, and that was not something Draco wanted to do after Severus's warning the previous night. The Potions Master was usually very lenient with the Slytherin. He was more like a father to Draco than Lucius Malfoy, that was for sure. At least when Severus looked at him it wasn't to measure up his worthiness of the Malfoy name. Lucius wanted a solid heir, but Severus wasn't really like that. Draco could tell. Besides, he liked being his godfather's favorite. When Severus complimented him in class and then dragged Potter through the mud…well, that was a great show. However, thanks to Potter's foolishness, the Potions Master clearly had not been impressed with Draco lately. So, the young Slytherin prince went reluctantly to the Great Hall, promising to get to the library as soon as a good chance presented itself.

When Draco entered the Great Hall he noticed that Potter and Weasley were already there. They were seated together at the Gryffindor table giggling incessantly at something Granger was saying. Imbeciles. Draco didn't bother to acknowledge them. He could always take care of this little problem after he'd gotten something in his empty stomach. Besides, he needed to take care of it in a room that wasn't filled with so many watchful eyes. Instead, with his head held high and blue hair stylishly slicked back, he proudly strode over to the Slytherin table and sat down casually between Crabbe and Goyle.

"Morning, Draco," Gregory Goyle mumbled through a mouthful of eggs. Draco sneered disgustedly at the display.

"Morning," he drawled.

"So I see you haven't found a cure for Potter and Weasley's little prank yesterday," Blaise stated conversationally, but the friendly tone did not ease the grating on poor Draco's nerves.

"Honestly, Blaise," Draco drawled proudly at his friend, "do you really think I would let the Weasel and Potter get one over on me like that? It was me who did this, of course."

"Really, Draco?" Crabbe asked. "Because I seem to remember you screaming something about Potter when it happened."

"Is everyone so dense at this table? It's all a part of my plan. _Revenge _against Potter for blaming me in Potions. I can assure you it was nothing but a farce to teach bloody Potter a lesson. A _ploy._ In fact, I am changing it back this morning," the blue haired Slytherin informed them slyly.

"Wow! That's smart, Draco," Goyle complimented, mouth still stuffed full of food. Draco began grabbing rolls from the table, satisfied with the way things were going.

"You could have told me, darling," Pansy whined. "You gave me a terrible start."

"I needed real reactions, Pans," the Slytherin told her, quite pleased with his excuse, and bit into his roll. However, Crabbe and Blaise looked at each other doubtfully.

"Too bad it didn't work for you then," Blaise said uncertainly.

"Yeah, unless you planned that month of detention too," Crabbe added. Draco's face froze. Were these idiots questioning him? These were _his _idiots! They weren't supposed to do that.

"Actually, I did," the annoyed Slytherin informed. "You should have seen Potter in detention last night. I got him so worked up the prat actually tried to curse me. You should have seen the look on Severus's face when he missed and destroyed a whole row of his potion bottles. Severus says he is going to torture Potter in detention for the rest of the month. And I," he stated proudly, "will be there to see it all."

"But how exactly are you going to see it if your detention is with Lupin?" Blaise asked.

"Do you really think Severus, my _godfather_, would leave me in detention with a werewolf? At night?" Draco retorted.

"You really are a genius, Draco," Pansy exclaimed excitedly.

"Yeah, Draco, sorry we questioned you," Goyle said with a smile.

"You should be," Draco drawled as he went back to his breakfast. Everything was working out perfectly. There wasn't a single hitch in his plans. His friends thought he was a genius, the blue hair would be gone within an hour, and he would be serving detention with Lupin which meant escaping Severus's wrath over the broken bottles. Potter, however, would be dead meat. Oh, life was good. Suddenly, a deep red envelope dropped on the table before him. Shit! He'd forgotten about this!

"Whoa, Draco! A howler!" Goyle shouted in awe.

"DRACO!" His father's voice spewed frightfully. "I AM NOT IMPRESSED! YOUR ACTIONS THIS PAST WEEK ARE SHAMEFUL! YOU ARE DISGRACING THE MALFOY NAME! A MUGGLE FIGHT WITH POTTER? YOU ARE A WIZARD FOR A REASON! I SUGGEST YOU USE YOUR HEAD AND YOUR BLOODY WAND NEXT TIME! I ASSURE YOU, DRACO, THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES!"

Then it burst into flames and disintegrated on the table before him. Draco stared transfixed at the spot. He had gone ghostly pale and he didn't dare look up at the other Slytherins, though he could feel their nervous stares drilling into him. Shit! Shit! Shit! This was so embarrassing! And damn terrifying too! Could this morning get any worse?

"Hey, Malfoy!" Ron Weasley's voice boomed from behind the Slytherin table. "Harry wants me to change your hair back since you went crying to him that you didn't do anything."

Apparently, it could.

* * *

For once Potions class was relatively uneventful for both Harry and Draco. Professor Snape was so angry, particularly at one Harry James Potter, that he barely acknowledged any of his students. In his mind, it was just better to restrain the rage, hold it in until Potter's detention that night, and then release it full force on the unsuspecting Gryffindor. However, their teacher's cold, menacing silence was much more frightening to the students, who didn't know what to expect or when their teacher would snap. That is, it was frightening to all of the students except Draco. He knew what was happening, and he knew very well why. He also knew that he was fortunate enough not be in the line of fire. He had detention with Lupin after all, and there was no doubt that the werewolf was much more easygoing. Of course, he would rather not have detention at all, but hell, at least he wasn't Potter. Draco smiled wickedly at the thought.

In fact, Draco's day really wasn't going that badly at all anymore. He had his beautiful, platinum blond hair back, and the Slytherins had already forgotten the morning's events. After all, it _was _Slytherin house. Any of them would have made the exact same excuses if they were in his shoes, and they knew it too. Thus, when Draco finally had time to stop by the library and check on the binding book, he was feeling much more relaxed and lighthearted. At least, he was until he opened the book and saw the note that was left for him.

"Bloody HELL! You've got to be kidding me!" he shouted, holding the note in his trembling hands.

"Mr. Malfoy, you are going to have to keep it down or leave my library. Is that understood?" Madam Pince warned the shocked blond venomously from across the aisle. Draco nodded dumbly to the woman before returning to the note and reading it again, then a third time. All in all, Draco read that note five times before he finally believed that he was reading it correctly.

"**I think your letter really made an impression on me. I understand how you feel. Actually, I feel the same as you described pretty much all of the time. Like I have to be a certain way or live up to certain expectations of my character or I am letting everyone down. It's like if I make a mistake or take one bloody wrong step everyone will know about it. Sometimes I just wish there wasn't so much pressure on me all of the time. It's nice to know there is someone else who can relate, though.**

**I don't know how to say this next bit, but I really feel like I need to get this out. I can't tell this to anyone, not even my best friends. It would just…change everything, and I am not ready for that. But as you said, we don't know each other so it can't cause too much harm if I tell you. The thing is…more and more lately, well I think I might fancy blokes. Merlin…I can't even…I should just be honest. I mean, this is anonymous, right? I really need to tell someone. The truth is, I **_**know **_**that I fancy blokes. I tried to ignore it for as long as I could. I thought maybe it was a phase, maybe everyone felt like this at some point. But bloody hell! I can't lie to myself anymore. I'm gay, aren't I? What should I do? How can I tell anyone when it doesn't fit the image of who I am supposed to be? I am sorry to have put that on you. It's just…there was no one else I could tell.**

**Sincerely,**

**One Very Confused Wizard**"

Draco couldn't stop staring. He couldn't even breathe, and soon his face would be as blue as his hair had been. There were absolutely no words to describe this. Just…damn.

* * *

Seeing Malfoy storming through the Great Hall in what appeared to be a combination of a fit of panic and an attack of rage should have been hilarious. Clearly, to Ron, it was. However, Harry couldn't help but feel a little uneasy. For once, Harry's thoughts were not focused on the infuriating Slytherin, but on something much more troubling. He was certain that his new pen pal must have read his note by now. This was a disaster. He wanted so badly to rush back to the library, crinkle up the letter, and toss it. But he had left it there the evening before, and it was very unlikely it would still be there. Bloody hell. How could he have written something so personal? What had he been thinking? This could end very badly if he wasn't careful. What if he got caught? What if someone saw him leave it in the book? What if this anonymous friend knew it was Harry Potter? Damn! Damn! Damn! He had just been feeling so alone at the time. There was that whole ordeal with Ginny, and he had to keep secrets from her. He knew that hurt her even if she said she understood. Then when he'd gone to the library and read that note…well, it just sounded so familiar. He could relate to it, and he really wanted someone to relate to. Now everything was a bloody mess!

"Harry, are you feeling all right?" Hermione asked, concerned. "You really don't look well."

"Yeah, mate. You look kind of pale," Ron noticed. Even he looked worried.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," Harry assured them. "I'm just tired."

"Maybe you should rest for a while. You have detention again tonight," Hermione suggested to her ill looking friend. Ron and Harry exchanged a quick glance, but it was not too quick to escape the clever witch's attention. "What is it? Harry, what happened?"

"What do you think happened, 'Mione?" Ron broke in, eager to tell the tale. "He was stuck with Malfoy _and _Snape all night."

"Merlin," Hermione sighed. "How much more detention did Snape give you?"

"Actually, none," Harry informed her, though she was surprised to see he didn't look at all happy despite the good news. "He said he didn't want to waste any more time with me than he absolutely had to."

"Isn't that a good thing?" the witch asked curiously.

"Tell her the rest, Harry," Ron sympathetically chided as Harry began to look a little glum.

"He said that for the rest of the month he was going to make detention a living hell," The-Boy-Who-Lived mumbled a little less than enthusiastically.

"Don't tell me Malfoy's getting off scott free?" Hermione gasped. "Snape has always been out to get you, Harry."

"It doesn't matter," Harry said while shaking his head. "At least I don't have to put up with Malfoy anymore. I can deal with Snape, but not both of them together right now."

"Speaking of the ferret," Ron chipped in rather amused, "I wonder what's got his pristine, little tail in bunch. He looks as pale as you do, mate. Hey! I wonder if you gave him whatever you have while you were in detention last night! Do you think he's going to faint? How awesome would it be if he lost his dinner in front of everyone?"

"Ron, you're going to make me lose _my _dinner," Harry informed the redhead. "Besides, I doubt Malfoy and I have the same problem. Anyway, I have to go. I need to check on…a book"

"A book?" Ron repeated confusedly.

"Yeah, I'll see you guys later," he told them as he left the Great Hall. Sure, it was somewhat of an awkward excuse, but it was true. It may not have been complete, but it was true.

"Ron?" Hermione suddenly wondered of her boyfriend. "Where is Draco serving detention tonight?"

"With Professor Lupin, isn't he?" Ron said dismissively.

"But, Ronald..."

* * *

Racing towards the library, Harry just had to see if the note was still there. I mean, there was a chance right? As slim of a chance as it was, it was possible nobody had read it yet. Maybe it wasn't too late! But what if it was? What if his new friend didn't want to talk to him anymore? What if they told everyone? He really wanted to remain positive, but he just had to know as soon as possible. Madam Pince shook her head as the boy rushed past her and practically flew at the book shelf containing the binding book. What was it with that book? She really had to wonder.

Harry didn't even bother to take it to a table before he tore through the pages faster than Malfoy ran scared from the Forbidden Forest in first year. BAM! The book hit the floor hard as it dropped from his hands, earning him an ill-tempered look from Madam Pince. His note was gone! It was definitely gone! Instead, there was a freshly folded piece of parchment in its place. Nervously, Harry bent down and picked up the book and parchment before taking them to the table and slumping down anxiously in his chair. He unfolded the page.

"**Dear Mr. Bombshell,**

**What the bloody FUCK was that? What do you think you're doing? You can't tell me this shit! You can't just go blabbing this stuff around, you prat! Some things are supposed to be secret. This is SUPPOSED to be about the bloody Potions assignment. We were supposed** **to be helping each other research, remember? How the hell does this help us get the assignment done? **

**Wait a minute…What do you know? Why did you write this to me? Are you watching me? What do you think you know about me? You better keep your mouth shut! And by the way, this is done! No more letters. Don't even bother replying to this because I won't even bother reading it. Maybe I'll change my topic!**

**But say I was to believe you…then maybe I would tell you that I understand you too. Maybe I would tell you that I also feel like that a lot. I might say that I'm probably not the best person to ask for advice because I actually am very good at fitting 'the image of who I am supposed to be.' I don't know what else to do, though. You're right that everything would change. I mean, when I first realized that I fancied other blokes I knew I couldn't tell anybody. And I haven't. Except now I've told you, but your babbling must be contagious. Anyway, I can't tell anyone. If my parents knew, then things would become too complicated. Maybe that means I will be forced into a loveless marriage someday, and that every time I go home my mother will introduce me to a bunch of incompetent girls I can't relate to and my father will go on and on about the honor of passing on the family name. But at least that way they're proud of me. So I guess…I don't know what to do either. And if you want to let me know how it goes for you…maybe I'll read it….**

**But if this is a trick, you won't live long enough to regret it!**

**Sincerely,**

**Doesn't Appreciate Surprises**"

Harry inhaled deeply as he finished the letter. He always kind of thought his secret writer was a girl. The handwriting was so…delicate. But it was bloke. And he was gay too. And he was going through the exact same thing! And he totally understood! Sure, he seemed to fly off the handle a little too easily, but Harry could understand that. It was a pretty huge coincidence, and this boy seemed really passionate and emotional. Harry could relate. Not to mention, the pure honesty was so refreshing. Suddenly, he was feeling a lot better. Life was complicated, but he wouldn't have to figure it out alone.

"**Dear Mr. Paranoid,**

**Are you really a bloke? You have such neat handwriting I took you for a girl. You're really gay too? I really didn't know. I assure you this is written in all sincerity. So when did you know? You really haven't told anyone? Do you think your parents would take it that badly? They'd be disappointed? I want to tell people someday, I think. At least, I wouldn't want to marry someone I didn't love. It wouldn't be fair to her either.**

**To be honest, I was really worried about this. I appreciate how upfront you were about the whole thing, though. A lot of people aren't. I apologize for not keeping this professional too. I have plans to find out about the rindill tomorrow. I would do it tonight, but I have some unfortunate business I have to take care of. I can tell you what I find, or are you really changing your topic?**

**Anyway, I know you said you couldn't really give me any advice, but thanks for understanding. If I have questions, can I ask you sometimes? It really helps a lot to talk to someone who gets it. I don't feel as alone anymore.**

**But in the future, you may not want to threaten me with hexes and death. I'll have you know, I can take care of myself.**

**Thanks for understanding,**

**The Contagious Babbler**"

Harry smiled as he finished writing his letter. Maybe things were looking up after all.

* * *

Things were definitely looking down. Harry had been sitting in the dungeons for five minutes with Snape just glaring at him. What was he waiting for? Was this the torture? Actually, this was good. It was bloody terrifying! The bat-like Potions Master looked like he wanted to kill something, and unfortunately for Harry, he was the only "something" around. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor and Harry was greeted with the sight of a pale, platinum blond Slytherin. _Bloody hell! This must be the torture, _Harry thought as he scowled at the other teen.

"You're late, Draco," Snape stated coldly, not once taking his dark eyes from Harry.

"Yes, sir," Draco explained coolly. "I was in the library working on my Potions essay and it took longer than I expected. Plus, I didn't know I would be coming down here tonight."

"It certainly is refreshing to have a student take the assignment so seriously," Snape sneered, still watching Harry. "Especially when _some _students might find themselves too _important _to bother starting it until the last minute, isn't that right, _Potter_?"

"Actually, I…"

"I trust you've taken the advice I've given you, Draco?" the man asked dryly, taking Harry by surprise. Advice? He was giving advice to Malfoy about the essay? Could this be any more twisted!

"What is Malfoy doing here?!" Harry demanded, finally losing his restrained temper. "He's supposed to have detention with Professor Lupin!"

"Your idiocy is astounding, Potter," Snape mocked the upset teen. "What night do you suppose it is?" Damn, Harry could have kicked himself. It was the full moon tonight, wasn't it? Lupin wasn't able to take Malfoy tonight. Of all the bloody luck! Snape clearly caught the look of realization in Harry's eyes and continued. "Mr. Malfoy will be joining you in detention tonight and tomorrow night."

"Oh don't look so thrilled, Potter. I'm not exactly happy to be here with you either," Malfoy drawled annoyingly at him.

Yes, Snape really did know how to torture him.

* * *

"You can't be serious, Sev…Professor Snape. You can't expect me to go in there!" Draco exclaimed as the three stood at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Snape with an evil glint to his eyes and a wickedly gleeful smile. The night was dark despite the full moon. Ominous clouds clung sharply to the dark, night sky. The sounds of wolves howling still drifted through the wood, and the cold wind cut sharply through the trees.

"Don't whine, Draco," the professor assured his godson. "You will be fine. Any dark creatures would much rather attack Potter than yourself."

"But what about werewolves! I can't imagine they'd be too picky. And Lupin…" the blond whined indignantly.

"Has taken the wolfsbane potion, I assure you," Snape interrupted nonchalantly.

"But you're friends with my father!" Draco continued to whine. He caught the sight of Potter rolling his eyes at him out of the corner of his eye. This wasn't fair! How could Severus expect him to roam about the Forbidden Forest half the night? With Potter!

"I said you will be fine," Snape said again. "I don't want to see either of you again until you've found _all _of the ingredients on that list. Is that understood, Potter?"

"Yes, sir," Harry grumbled, taking the list grudgingly and entering the forest with Draco in tow.

"You are such a chicken, Malfoy," Harry commented when the two were alone together. Despite his hatred for the other boy, Draco stood close to his enemy as he watched the deep, dark woods, listening intently for the night beasts prowling for their next meal.

"Sod off, Potter," Draco drawled with a false air of bravery. "I am just a strong believer in self-preservation, unlike certain, foolish Gryffindors."

"Whatever. Let's just hurry up and find all of this stuff," Harry grumbled as he flicked the list towards the frightened Slytherin, "so we can get the bloody hell out of here."

"Fine, Potter. I can't say I disagree with you there."

It wasn't that the list was particularly long, but that Snape had chosen some of the rarest ingredients he could think of. Actually, Harry had to wonder if the man had even made some of them up just to keep him wandering around the forest all night. Coming up to a rotting bit of tree, Harry pulled away some of the loose bark.

"Is that the insect we were supposed to collect?" he asked his rival.

"Honestly, Potter," the icy Slytherin drawled. "You know nothing about potions."

"We can't all be getting advice from Snape!" the bold Gryffindor retaliated.

"You don't know what that was about, Scarhead. And for your information, no, that's not the one. It's this one," Draco sneered as he pointed to a blue spotted insect that looked exactly like the one Harry had asked him about.

"That's the same kind!" Harry shouted back.

"Well, mine is bigger, Potter. That makes it a better sample. Now, stick it in the bloody bottle," the annoyed blond ordered, clearly very used to telling people what to do.

"We don't have a bottle, Malfoy. Snape said he wouldn't let me anywhere near one after what happened last night. Just stick it in your pocket or something," Harry stated dryly. The look that crossed over the blond's face was one Harry swore he would remember forever.

"I'm not putting that _thing_ in my pocket!" Draco screamed at him in a high pitched, indignant voice. Harry couldn't help but laugh.

"Seriously, you are such a girl, Malfoy."

"Why do people keep calling me that?" the distraught teen screamed loudly.

"Really? Who else called you a girl?" Harry asked amusedly.

"Just shut it, Potter."

The rest of the night drew on in much the same manner. The two bickered about the ingredients, which sample was best, who should carry which sample, and so on and so forth. However, Harry had to admit that the experience wasn't all that bad, even though he got stuck carrying most of the ingredients. The "torture" seemed to be affecting Malfoy much more than himself. The blond was half panicked the entire night, jumping at the hoot of an owl and every snap of a twig. This was almost fun to watch. At least this time the Slytherin didn't run away screaming, though there were a few times when Harry was sure he wanted to. As they finally left detention that night, Harry couldn't help himself.

"Well, I guess I'll see you again tomorrow night, Malfoy. I'm sure Snape will have plenty more ingredients for us to collect."

"Potter, you are the bane of my existence," the Slytherin mumbled coldly as he stomped away.

* * *

Though he was still tired from the night before, Harry woke up early the next morning just so he could make it to the library before breakfast. As expected, there was a new letter left for him in the book.

"**Dear Mr. Inquisitive,**

**Disappointed! Disappointed is the least of my worries. I take it you're not a pureblood, then? I suppose that makes you pretty fortunate in this regard. I am a pureblood, and in pureblooded families being gay is a major taboo because it means I am unlikely to marry and produce an heir. It's all about keeping the bloodline going, so adoption is no good either. Not to mention, most purebloods would find it shameful to be openly gay. Being gay is seen as no different than being muggleborn. It might even be worse. Being a pureblood is like a full time job. I have to appear to be dignified and regal at all times. Unfortunately, my parents really buy into this pureblood bullshit. So, yeah, disappointed would be fantastic. The best I could ever hope for is a very embarrassing and public disownment. I don't even want to get into the worst. Since you aren't a pureblood, I think you'll have a much easier time. It is much easier to find acceptance when people aren't so concerned about images and bloodlines. **

**As for your questions, I've known for a while. I guess I was sure about two years ago. And I already told you I can't tell anyone so stop asking me that. If you want to ask me any NONSTUPID questions, I guess I wouldn't be opposed to answering them. Also, I don't want to give up on my topic yet, so we can still work together. I'll do some more research too.**

**And I will have you know that just because a person has LEGIBLE handwriting it does not make them a bloody girl. Some of us actually want people to be able to read what we write.**

**Yours Truly,**

**Your Perfect Penmanship Potions Partner**

**P.S. I don't usually say this, but thanks. It really is nice to have someone who gets it.**"

Harry sighed as he put the page down. He was starting to see just how good he had it. He knew his friends would love him no matter what, even if it took them a little while to get used to the idea. Even if things were strange for a little while. But some people didn't have that, and it really wasn't fair. He knew some purebloods had it strict, but not like this. Ron's family didn't worry about things like images and bloodlines, and Malfoy was annoyingly pompous and proud regarding his pureblood heritage. This person, however, was affected by it deeply, and in a completely different way than Ron or that git Malfoy. He made it sound more like a burden than anything. Harry did his best to soothe the stress of his new friend in his reply. When he went to the Great Hall for breakfast that morning, it was with a smile on his face.


	5. Schemes and Dreams

**Chapter 5: Schemes and Dreams**

"A rindill, 'Arry?" Hagrid asked the young wizard with a concerned expression on his bearded face.

"That's right, Hagrid," the boy responded, misunderstanding the giant's question. "Don't tell me you haven't heard of it either?"

"'Arry, I know 'bout the rindills, but I hafta tell ya, it's best not to tangle with'em." The half giant's expression was grave, and Harry could sense a shadow passing over his usually happy features.

"What are they, Hagrid?" he asked the burly man curiously.

"Dark creatures. Dark creatures of the worst kind," Hagrid explained firmly. "Capable of killin' a wizard in the blink of an eye, they are. They move so fas' they are practically invisible during flight." Harry's curiosity was clear on his face now.

"How do they kill? What do they look like? Why haven't I ever heard of them before?" he asked enthusiastically of the older man. Hagrid sighed.

"Possession, 'Arry. They can take o'er a wizard body an' soul in seconds. Kills ya instantly, that does. Bit rare, though. Rindills live in the deepest par' of the Forbidden Fores' an there 'snot too many o'them left. Ruthless if you come 'cross them, though," Hagrid said as he looked towards the forest. "But they are considered one o' the mos' beautiful creatures in existence, rindills. Pale white skin an' silver hair, sharp fangs, glowin' eyes, and nearly transparent wings. They mesmerize wizards wit' their beauty, and then they strike. Wizards don' like ta talk 'bout them much more than they do You-Know-Who."

"So anyone could be a rindill and no one would know?" Harry asked concerned.

"In a matter o' speaking," Hagrid conceded," but they don' tend to stay long. A wizard's body can only support'em fer a couple o' weeks. They use the wizard's power to their own gain, an' then go on their way. Them rindills only care 'bout one thing."

"What's that?"

"Their mate. Rindills bond fer all eternity. Their bond is the strongest in existence, more than any other creature's bond. But I shouldn't have told ya that," the half giant explained halfheartedly.

"So that's why the Love Binding Potion asks for a rindill's feather," Harry muttered to himself.

"'Arry, don' go lookin' for trouble. No girl is wort' that," Hagrid warned the boy solemnly.

"Thanks, Hagrid. I have to get back now. I'll see you," Harry said as he headed back towards the castle.

"Be careful, 'Arry," Hagrid stated quietly to himself as he watched the boy go.

* * *

It was the weekend, and Draco Malfoy found himself in the unfortunate circumstance of returning to Malfoy Manor. It was definitely the last place the young blond Slytherin wanted to be, especially with the tension rising between himself and his father. He knew Lucius was becoming impatient. He wanted his son to follow in his footsteps, but Draco was doing everything in his power to slow the process. Of course, Lucius pushed his son's training increasingly, and it was time to demand results. That was why the man had requested Draco return home for the weekend.

Draco did not receive a warm welcome upon his return to Malfoy Manor. In fact, quite unsurprisingly, he was met with the usual servants and house elves and offered the usual meaningless formalities. He wasn't entirely positive where his mother was at the moment, but Lucius would have no doubt sent her out for the day. She, unlike his father, did tend to dote on him, and Lucius was an impatient man when he wanted to get down to business. It was with great reluctance that the blond Slytherin made his way into his father's study.

"Ah, Draco," the man greeted him with cold, calculating eyes. "I had wondered when you would arrive."

"I'm sorry, Father. I was held up at school. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't," his father warned him coolly as he twisted a silver headed staff impatiently about in his elegantly defined fingers. He gracefully pushed himself up from his seat and slowly but dangerously approached Draco like a snake slithering purposefully through the grass. "I have been hearing things, Draco. Things that I hope to be mere rumors. For your sake…"

"Father, I can explain that! Potter…" Draco cut in shrilly, rousing the older man's anger.

"Is the reason you are here," his father told him flatly, voice hard and leaving no room for discussion. "There will be no more interruptions, Draco. Now, the Dark Lord is growing impatient. You are nearly of age to accept our master's mark." Draco gulped unperceptively, nearly breaking out in a cold, panicked sweat. But Malfoys never sweat, so he held fast to the stoic façade he had become so accustomed to wearing, "But not just yet. You must prove your worthiness first, my son. The Dark Lord has designed a task, and you are to complete it. The time to act is upon us, Draco. Harry Potter will die." Resolved to his fate, Draco could only nod. He would obey his father. He always knew the time was coming. It was the unanswered question always hanging stale in the air. Betray his father, his family, his name, and all the expectations weighing down his shoulders or betray his heart, his true identity, his future, his hope, and the life he wanted. Draco was a Slytherin, and Slytherins couldn't worry about hearts and love, though. So, deep down Draco knew he would always follow in his father's footsteps. It was his destiny in life, and who was he to question destiny? He couldn't delay it without consequence any longer.

"And have you been practicing what we discussed?" Lucius inquired of his only child, ruthless gleam dancing in his eyes.

"The animagus form? I've been practicing, Father," Draco answered.

"And?" The question was impatient, sharp, and filled with venom. Lucius was a man with a purpose, and there was no doubt that he expected his son to be able to fulfill that purpose sooner rather than later.

"I-I can't do it yet, sir," Draco stammered. Yes, Draco always knew that he would follow in his father's footsteps. He would be the perfect little Death Eater his father wanted him to be, and he would never betray him. And yet, Draco Malfoy had just lied to his father, and for the life of him he couldn't answer why.

"No matter. There is time for that. Now, we must discuss the details of Potter's demise."

* * *

Harry sat huddled in the library scrawling a reply to the mysterious boy on a spare piece of parchment. Hagrid had been more than helpful with his extensive knowledge of mythical creatures, but, for certain, the news had not necessarily been a blessing. If this essay remained just that, an essay, then what Harry had learned about rindills wouldn't pose much of a problem at all. However, Harry knew Snape well enough to know that sooner or later he would have to brew the damned thing in class, and where the hell was he supposed to get a rindill's feather? It was one of the rarest creatures in existence, not to mention one of the most dangerous. Not that Harry was too worried about danger in general. After all, when was his life not in danger anyway? Yet, for some unknown reason thinking about the other boy going out into the Forbidden Forest alone at night and actively walking into the clutches of such formidable creatures made his heart clench painfully. Maybe it would be best to change topics after all? Surely he and the other boy could still work together. Maybe. But somehow Harry knew this boy. Knew that he was stubborn, strong-willed, and was trying to prove something to someone if not to himself. Harry finished composing the letter and putting the book back in its rightful place as Ron and Hermione entered the library.

"Was Hagrid able to help you, Harry?" Hermione asked as she slid into a seat at a nearby table. Ron and Harry went to join her.

"Actually, yes. He knew a lot about them. Thanks for the advice, Hermione," Harry said as his friend beamed knowingly at him. She was certainly proud of herself for coming up with the idea. Ron simply stared at the two before rolling his eyes in disgust.

"Honestly, am I the only sane one here? You lot are just bonkers. Homework all the bloody time when we have a big game against Slytherin in a couple weeks, mate? And for Snape? Bloody disgusting, that is."

"And how far along are you, Ronald?" Hermione chided her boyfriend with annoyance dripping from her voice hidden behind just a touch of playfulness.

"Well… 'Mione, I will have you know that I've been thinking very seriously about this essay," Ron stuttered out while his face blushed a deep red, putting even his hair to shame.

"Really?" Harry asked him, somewhat bemusedly. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember seeing Ron actually working on anything…or even mentioning anything about the essay.

"It's been a careful decision making process," the redhead confirmed cryptically, and quite unconvincingly if you asked Harry.

"Which means he hasn't even selected a topic yet," Hermione was quick to translate for her boyfriend. "I suppose I've got my work cut out for me. I'll help you, but I am not doing the whole essay for you," she informed Ron, his demeanor drooping slightly when she told him she wouldn't be doing all of the work.

"But what about your essay, Hermione?" Harry asked his friend sincerely, but she just shot him an expression that seemed to say '_just how slow are you?'_

"Finished it last week," she informed as she got up and went to the book shelves, pulling down several thick books before returning to the table. Much to Harry's relief, none of them was the binding book. Hermione and Ron knew his handwriting much too well for comfort. He let the panicked feeling escape his bones as he turned back to Ron who was currently wearing an expression similar to the one Harry had just been.

"Bloody hell that's a lot of books…" he whined as he let his head drop down to the table. Hermione was already happily flipping her way through them. Harry just smiled to himself before leaving the two to their work.

* * *

There Draco sat, Monday afternoon in McGonagall's class as the old bag droned on about something or other Draco couldn't be bothered to care about. The weekend had passed in a chaotic, stressful blur of planning, plotting, and good old fashioned villainy as Draco liked to think of it, but it wasn't funny. Not funny at all. Sure, he had tried to come to terms with the whole "Kill Potter" scheme, and Draco wasn't a fan of Potter's to begin with, but in his own mind he was willing to admit that he was much less a fan of the Dark Lord.

Succeeding meant becoming a Death Eater, and becoming a Death Eater meant a lifetime of hate and misery. And what if he messed up someday? What if all the bloody pain and loneliness came crashing down on him someday and he gave into it and took on a lover? Then, no amount of loyal servitude to the Dark Lord would matter. He could imagine it now, 20…30…even it was a 100 years of unquestioned service to his master and it would all be for naught. The Dark Lord wouldn't blink an eye as he tortured and killed him.

And as for his father? The man would care nothing for his gay son as he died mercilessly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. It would simply be the happy price paid for a son who turned out to be an embarrassment in his eyes. Draco knew these things to be true, and it didn't make him particularly want to head down such a course. But honestly, what other option did he have? If he rebelled he would just die sooner.

Draco's thoughts began to drift to the other boy, the one in the letters. At least he didn't have the Dark Lord breathing down his neck…but he had something. Somehow, Draco knew that the other boy had a hard life. Maybe it was the connection he felt with him, the sense of having so much in common, but he knew the boy just got it. He understood Draco like no one else had even bothered to try, and he never judged him. Well…except when he thought he was a girl. Under different circumstances, Draco would have liked to meet him in person and finally have a friend (or maybe something more) who he didn't have to consistently wear his façade around. However, Draco knew better than that. He would never meet the boy. He would never walk out on his life, his father, and his name. But at least he still had the letters, and that meant something to Draco he couldn't quite explain.

As the class let out and the other students ambled out of the room, the blond Slytherin remained seated in the back of the classroom, eyes still glazed over blankly in deep concentration. Now was the time to get down to business. Suddenly, his haze was rudely interrupted by a wand tapping impatiently on the table in front of him. He lifted his eyes to see McGonagall's stern face scowling impatiently at him beneath her pointed hat.

"Class has let out, Mr. Malfoy. Was there something you needed?"

"What do you know about rindills?" the blond blurted out before he had a chance to stop himself. McGonagall's face paled so fast he would have thought a swamp troll had just mooned the old witch. Then she answered and he knew why…

* * *

Draco was in the library, blue binding book in front of him, going over the conversation with Professor McGonagall over and over in his mind. Getting information out of her had been about as pleasant as his weekend endeavors at Malfoy Manor. Everything was always so "need to know" and "do as you're told," but Draco was well versed in the art of manipulation…or begging. Whatever you wanted to call it. Eventually, the witch had given in, but had then told him exactly the same thing Severus had. That infamous advice. Change your topic. Draco huffed in annoyance. He was a Malfoy and Malfoys didn't need to change their topics. He was the bloody prince of Slytherin. No essay was going to get the best of him. Quickly, he flipped open the book and felt a strange wave of…something…as he discovered another note was left for him.

"**Dear Mr. Way Too Sensitive,**

**Sorry about the girl thing. I actually like your handwriting. So anyway, I found out about the rindills. It isn't pretty. They're some kind of dark creatures that can possess wizards and use their magic, but it's deadly. Anyway, Hagrid says they have the strongest mating bond of any creature so I am guessing that's why their feathers are so powerful in the Love Binding Potions. I'm still not sure about the exact effects of the potion, though. Did you get anything?**

**Also, you're right that I'm not a pureblood. It sounds like you have it really rough, and I can't even imagine. I know some purebloods, but I don't know anyone like you. I know a lot of them are stuck up gits, though. I'm glad they haven't broken you. And, I may not be a pureblood but I know what it's like to have it bad at home. I hate the holidays more than you can imagine. I know it's pretty strange when everyone else is so excited and I just want to stay here…in school. But I'm not some nerd or anything! So anyway, I wish I could offer you some awesome life altering advice, but I haven't exactly made the decision to go public with this either. It's scary, I know, but if it gets too bad I'll still be listening. You have my word, I'll be there. **

**Yours Truly,**

**A Friend**

**P.S. It sounds like this rindill thing is a bit dangerous, and you know Snape is going to want us to brew these eventually. Sure you want to stick with it?**"

Broken him? BROKEN HIM? No way in hell! No one breaks Draco Malfoy like some pathetic muggle horse! The blond huffed indignantly. Well, this was just great. Draco had never quite thought of it like that until this mysterious stranger had come into his life and laid it out so obviously in front of him, but wasn't that just what his father and Lord Voldemort were trying to do? To train him, they first had to break him. They didn't want him to have his own mind. They didn't want him to have spirit, strength, purpose, or a drive all his own. They wanted him to play follow the leader and never ask questions. They wanted him to do the despicable things and not even flinch, and just because he was ordered to do so. It really was servitude, and somehow all of these proud pureblood families were all so eager to thrust themselves right into it.

Suddenly, Draco was a lot less okay with following the orders he had been given over the weekend. Despite his disdain for the Potter imbecile, he didn't particularly want to try to kill him. Especially not if it resulted in him becoming a Death Eater. There had to be a way out of this. If he could just come up with the right scheme, make it look good, there had to be something that would work. A little bit of encouragement from a friend never hurt either, Draco thought as he began his reply.

Later that night, the Slytherin prince sat alone in front of the fireplace in his common room going over the plans with his father. The older Malfoy's face in the fire was looking through Draco's very soul, terrifying despite his lack of actual physical presence.

"Where is this thing?" Draco questioned, the perfect Malfoy heir by all sounds and appearances.

"There is a tower in the Western most wing that was blocked off while I was still a student. It's behind a portrait of a man dressed in black holding a snake made of the highest quality gold. That man was Bertrand Leavey, a very powerful wizard in his day who was rumored to have…meddled in the dark arts. The gargoyle is at the top of the tower," Lucius explained.

"He will let me through?" Draco asked, not sure what he was supposed to do if the portrait wanted to put up a fight.

"Yes, unbeknown to anyone outside the Malfoy line, Bertrand Leavey owes our family a life debt. If you tell him who you are, he will not have any choice but to let you pass." The regal looking Malfoy grinned wickedly.

"And the enchantment you gave me will awaken the gargoyle? What if it doesn't work?"

"It will work, Draco," Lucius snapped coldly. "If you do as I say, you will be successful in your mission, son. The most important thing is the timing. It needs to get Potter alone. We can't have Dumbledore meddling in this. You are to go to the tower at night when the castle is quiet and send the gargoyle to Potter as he sleeps."

"I understand, Father. It will be done."

* * *

After a hurried breakfast the next morning Harry once again found himself in the library. It wasn't that he wanted to work on the essay, but it felt like a while since he had heard from his new friend and he was eager to get a response. Maybe today was the day. He chuckled at the look on Ron's face as he had once again rushed off to the library to "see a book." Surely the redhead thought Harry was turning into Hermione, but it was just too hard to hide his enthusiasm for "going to the library" when it meant a new letter. Harry couldn't quite place the feeling, but feeling understood and accepted and having it have nothing to do with being The Chosen One felt really good. Aha! There was a reply! Harry unfolded it and began to read.

"**Dear Hopeless Cliché,**

**Thanks for 'being there for me' and being so ready to 'drop everything' and just 'listen.' Because, you know, 'I could really use a friend right now.' I'll be sure to let you know if I need 'a shoulder to cry on,' but I'm sure that if I just 'go with the flow' and 'look on the bright side' then 'everything will be OK.' I just need to 'see the forest for the trees,' right? I'm sorry if this is coming off a little 'cold as ice,' but don't take it personally. 'It's just been one of those days.' 'It's not you, it's me,' but 'I appreciate your concern.' Seriously? And you call ME a girl? What's wrong with you? **

**But thanks…I guess.**

**Anyway, I was able to get some information on the rindill as well. You asked Hagrid? I didn't think of that, but he doesn't care for me much anyway. I asked McGonagall, and I highly discourage you from asking that old bat anything ever. She is one scary witch. I don't want to change the topic, but I understand what you are saying about brewing the potion. Getting a feather is next to impossible. Apparently, the only time you can even see rindills is when they are standing still. When they are in movement, they are so fast they are invisible. Not to mention, they are somewhat parasitic. If they possess you, it is instant death and they can actually feed off your magic. My thoughts? We buy a couple feathers off the black market. I can get that information for you when I figure it out myself. Something that dangerous is bound to cost a fortune, though. I hope you have money if you aren't switching topics.**

**There was something else I wanted to ask you too. This is so stupid. I can't even believe I am bringing this up. I was just wondering…. What would you do if someone told you to do something really awful and you really didn't want to do it? I can't go into details, so don't ask for any. It's just that my father wants me to do something, and I have a really bad feeling about it. Actually it would probably ruin my life among others'. I don't know how to get out of it, though. Merlin! This is so stupid! You wouldn't know!**

**So anyway…I guess that talking thing goes both ways. If you want…**

**Yours,**

**The Walking Perfection**"

Harry's hand had gone to his head by the time he finished reading the letter, his scar aching for some unknown reason he couldn't place. There was something worrying about this letter. Whatever trouble his friend was in, Harry had a sinking feeling that it was serious. Sure, the other boy seemed to fly off the handle over every little thing, but this was different. There was a feeling of foreboding building up in Harry's chest. He composed his own reply, and he really hoped it would make a difference.

"**Dear Overdone Sarcastic Git,**

**Haha, I guess that was a little…walking Christmas cardy, but I was serious. I want to help if I can. Look, I don't know what's going on with your dad, but I also have a bad feeling about it. I'm not sure why. If you really don't want to do whatever it is, then please find some way out of it. Whatever it takes. Promise me? Because my intuition tends to be pretty accurate. I can't be more specific than that if you won't be, but trust me on this.**

**Anyway, the black market? Are you serious? You really get around. I had a feeling you were going to be stubborn about it. Do you really need this grade that badly? I don't want to change the topic either, though. I actually really do need the grade. We'll figure that out later, though. For now, try not to get into too much trouble. **

**You really asked McGonagall? And before, you asked Snape? I am honestly thinking you need a badge for bravery. That's just brilliant.**

**So anyway, here's a little something to keep you going while you figure things out.**

'**Keep your head up.' **

'**Just hang in there.'**

'**Be strong.'**

'**I know you can do it.'**

'**Never give up.'**

'**Give it your all.'**

**And 'Don't be a stranger!'**

**Sincerely,**

'**Anonymous'**"

* * *

Draco held the letter firmly between clenched fists. He had to get out of his father's plan. It was a promise he hadn't yet written his agreement to, but one which he knew that he would make to his new friend, a boy that really did care even if no one else did. Suddenly, the wheels were turning. A successful mission meant proving himself worthy of the Dark Mark, but who was to say Draco was worthy just yet? No, he was still young, rash, and foolish. Certainly, more training was in order. The blond cringed at the thought, but it was better than the alternative.

There was no way he could deny his father, but that didn't mean he couldn't fail him in other ways. They would probably punish him for it, but it wasn't punishable by death. Oh, Draco would resurrect the gargoyle all right, and he would set it after Potter. But, he was going to do this his way.


	6. Rampage

**Chapter 6: Rampage**

"But Hermione! It's not romantic if we bring the house elves along!" Ron was whining across the breakfast table as he stuffed his face with a forkful of pancakes and berry flavored syrups.

"Honestly, Ronald, I am not saying we bring them. It's just that it doesn't seem fair that we get time off for a Hogsmeade weekend together while they are slaving away," the young witch chastised the confused redhead.

"So then what are you suggesting?" Harry noticed Ron's tone was cautious, expecting the worst. He couldn't say he blamed him. Hermione had that look in her eye again, the one that said she'd been planning something or other and everyone else was just supposed to shut up and go with it. That was a dangerous look, Harry knew.

"We should protest. I think we shouldn't go at all," Hermione stated matter-of-factly and Ron's face fell, including his jaw as the syrup began dribbling out and down his chin.

"What?"

"What do you think, Harry?" She turned to him for support. Normally he would have been with Ron on this one, but he had a lot on his mind lately and everyone seemed to be pairing off for the upcoming weekend anyway.

"Whatever. It's not like I had a date anyway," the Gryffindor grumbled as he twisted his fork about his plate, making tiny ripples in the multicolored syrups. That got Ron's attention once again.

"Is that why you've been so moody lately? Harry, if you need a date you know Ginny would…"

"Ron!" Harry exclaimed, but the damage had been done. It was just Harry's luck that at just that moment Draco Malfoy had been walking past with his goonies. It had been a few days since Malfoy had given him any trouble. The git had been fairly quiet during the second night of detention, the terror of the Forbidden Forest getting the best of him, and had since been serving detention with Remus. Aside from his usual snarky comments in class, Draco had really just been an annoyance in Harry's side lately, but now it seemed the Slytherin prince had found his chance to pounce like an ill-tempered ferret once again.

"Potter and the Weaselette?" Draco drawled before smirking amusedly at Crabbe and Goyle. "Now, there's a freak show even I wouldn't pay to see."

"Shut up about my sister, Ferret!" Ron was on his feet in an instant with fists clenched at his sides and a barely controlled glare marring his near purple face.

"Why don't you mind your own business, Malfoy!" Harry warned as he also rose to his feet and faced the still smirking blond.

"And what are you going to do about it, Potter? Enjoying detention with Professor Snape, are we? I heard he's had you scrubbing the toilets in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. A lot of fun, is that?" There was something dangerous flickering in the steely gaze, but it was quietly subdued. Malfoy was definitely up to something, but Harry was too angry to care. After all, when wasn't Malfoy up to something?

"You know what, I don't care if it costs me detention every night for the rest of the year. I will hex your pompous face right off, Malfoy!"

"Is that a challenge, Potter?" The blond's voice was dripping with amusement and ego, and it only caused Harry to become that much angrier. "No more muggle fighting then? If you're trying to give up your barbaric ways to impress the Weaselette, I can honestly say, it's really not worth it, Potter."

"I told you to shut the bloody hell up about my sister!" Ron screamed, finally losing control and leaping towards the steely eyed blond in an attempt to start his own version of a muggle fist fight, but of course, Draco had been anticipating it.

"Fieri lapis!" Draco shouted as he flicked his wand at the approaching boy, eliciting a gasp from Hermione. When Harry turned toward his friend, he was met with the sight of one very pissed off looking statue. Ron was solid stone; fists still clenched, feral snarl across his mouth, stone eyes pointed and filled with rage, and syrup still dribbling from his chin. It seemed to be quite the spectacle to Crabbe and Goyle who were laughing uncontrollably, and even the rest of the students in the Great Hall seemed to find it at least a little bit hilarious, but Harry was fuming.

"Change him back!" the dark-haired boy shouted, but Draco merely circled the statue with that calm yet demeaning look he did so well.

"The two of you should learn not to bring fists to a wand fight, Potter. Your dueling skills do leave something to be desired. And you call yourselves wizards?" the Slytherin taunted mischievously. "Wizarding 101, Scarhead. That spell could have turned something ten times the Weasel's size to stone. I wouldn't try it, though. It's a bit advanced, and we don't need any stone shrines to Saint Potter around here." With that, the blond sauntered off with his two cronies flanking him on either side.

"Mr. Potter!" Harry turned back around to see the angry snarl of Professor Snape. He gulped. Somehow he had a feeling that detentions were going to get a whole lot worse. "What, pray tell, is the meaning of this?"

"Malfoy…"

"Fifteen points, Potter," the bat-like man interrupted icily.

"But Malfoy…"

"Was clearly provoked. I saw Weasley move to attack with my own eyes," Snape informed the group smugly, clearly enjoying the chance to take yet more points from Gryffindor house.

"Professor Snape," Hermione attempted, "Draco really did pick the fight." But, of course, it was no use.

"The look on Mr. Weasley's face says otherwise. Now, I suggest you get him to Madam Pomfrey at once before the spell sets in completely." Snape then billowed off leaving a seething Harry in his wake. With Hermione's help, the two were able to levitate Ron and head for the hospital wing. Harry had only one thought on the way: Malfoy…. And this definitely wasn't over yet.

* * *

After safely leaving Ron with the fussing Madam Pomfrey, Harry once again found himself seated in the library reading a note from the mysterious boy with the elegant handwriting. The stress of the day was finally melting away at the comforting feeling only his new companion could offer. It didn't even matter that he had never met the other boy in person; there was a connection to be sure.

"**Dear Mr. Goody Two Shoes,**

**Yes, the black market! How else are we supposed to get them? Walk into the rindill nest and ask for a spare? Honestly, I am starting to get the impression that I might be a bad influence on you. If you want to get yourself killed over a potion for a class, be my guest. Otherwise, we do this thing my way.**

**And if you're wondering…I think I might have found a way out of my father's order. Well, sort of. There's no way I can disobey him out right, but that doesn't mean I don't have options. So, thanks, I guess. Thanks for encouraging me to go with my instinct. No one has ever encouraged me in anything before. **

**But that's enough sentimental crap for one letter! I'll keep you posted on my research. I trust you'll do the same because I am not dragging your arse through this class.**

**Yours,**

**Rebel With a Plan**"

Harry smiled to himself before composing his reply and rushing off to Potions for which he would most definitely be late.

* * *

Potter was late; Draco snickered to himself as the other boy rushed into the classroom with messy hair even more unruly than usual and sweat dripping heavily from his forehead. He had obviously run the entire way, but from the hospital wing? Granger had been on time and hadn't she gone with Potter to deliver the Weasel?

"You're staring at him again, Draco," Blaise whispered into his friend's ear with a chuckle as he bumped his shoulder to get the distracted Slytherin's attention.

"I wasn't staring. I was glaring," the blond huffed indignantly earning him another small chuckle from his amused friend.

"Honestly, darling," Pansy cooed from his other side, "what you did this morning…simply beautiful."

"Of course," Draco drawled to the girl. "Poor saps didn't even see it coming. Pathetic Gryffindors." However, Draco was not the only one _glaring _at the moment. Every few minutes Potter would turn around to give him the narrow eyed stare of death before turning back to his potion. Potter did have a temper, but Draco could match it easily enough. Blaise Zabini couldn't help but glance between the two before rolling his eyes to himself. This was going to be a long day.

Sure enough, the very second class let up Potter was on Draco with a vengeance. His eyes behind his glasses were serious and angry, and his stature was as rigid as the stone his best friend had now become.

"What the hell's wrong with you, Malfoy?!" the green-eyed boy bellowed at the Slytherin prince. "Madam Pomfrey said it's lucky you didn't turn his organs to stone too. That could have taken months to undo."

"Unlike you, Potter, I actually know what I'm doing when I cast a spell. Weasel will be fine. He's always been rather _hard _headed," the blond smiled darkly.

"You think you're funny, Malfoy? You're not!"

"Ooh, good one, Potter. Whatever can I say to that? Seriously, I think I need to go find a corner to cry in," Draco dramatized in an expression of mock hurt before returning to his trademark evil smirk.

"Bloody overdone sarcastic git!" Potter spat, still fuming.

"Pathetic goody two shoes," Draco spat back. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have better company to keep, Saint Potter." With that, Draco exited the room with Pansy on his arm and Blaise following closely behind. The only thing he could think as he walked away from the Boy-Who-Lived was how infuriating he was. Unbeknown to him, Harry was thinking the exact same thing about the Slytherin.

* * *

It was now early evening and the other students would soon be shuffling into the Great Hall for dinner. Draco, however, had headed straight up to the library and to the binding book. Soon it would be time to put his plan into motion, but first he could use a mood booster. What he was about to do was no small feat and there were no guarantees he would be successful, but if it could hold him off from becoming a Death Eater then it was well worth it. One way or another, he had to face the gargoyle whether he wanted to or not.

He pulled the piece of parchment from the book and unfolded it carefully.

"**Dear Rebel,**

**Don't worry about being a bad influence. Believe it or not, I'm in trouble with the professors more often than not. But I might have to keep you in line, it seems!**

**I'm glad I could help you with your problem. It sounds like your father is a really demanding man. My family isn't so great either. They're muggles and they hate everything to do with magic, and they certainly aren't too fond of me. At least we're almost ready to get out, though, right, mate? **

**I'll see what I can find out about the potion. There has to be more information somewhere. I've been a bit distracted lately because of some sarcastic git, other than you, who has decided to torment me. I'll definitely keep you posted, though.**

**From one rebel to another,**

**Your Voice of Reason**"

There was a genuine smile crossing Draco's face as he finished reading the letter. No one ever really called him "mate" before and he really liked it. It made him feel like he was a part of something, like he belonged with someone. No matter that his new "mate" seemed be some sort of insufferable do-gooder. Actually, Draco kind of liked that. It was refreshing after everything he had to deal with in his own family.

"**Dear Angel on My Shoulder,**

**Believe me, I wasn't worried about it. Sounds like you need some corrupting. Guess I could use a little of the opposite as well. **

**Sorry to hear about your family. I'd love to put them in a room with mine! Although, it sounds like deep down they're just the same. I am so sick of ignorant people always telling me what I should believe! I used to believe it too, but when I really looked I saw that it was all a bunch of misery and grief with no gain. It doesn't make me feel superior when I have my own secret, you know?**

**Anyway, you should let me know who the little git is who's giving you trouble. I've been privy to some pretty nasty hexes in my day. It's hard not to pick up some stuff in a family like mine.**

**Ciao,**

**Innocent Devil**"

After tucking the book back onto the shelf, Draco left the library in search of Bertrand Leavey's portrait. It didn't take the young Slytherin very long to find it as a golden snake really does tend to stand out. Bertrand Leavey himself was not what Draco had been expecting, however. For a man of such considerable wealth and one whom had known the Malfoys, he was shockingly ill dressed in slightly worn black robes of grotesque velvet and a misshapen matching hat of muggle design. His eyes were grey, but cold and harsh keeping him from an otherwise grandfatherly appearance. He was indeed old, and his snowy hair was sleek and pulled back tightly at the nape of the neck. Draco felt chills wrack his body as the man in the portrait took note of his presence.

"Filthy little beast," Bertrand Leavey droned as the golden serpent suddenly came to life and twisted about the man's stubby arm in an elegant spiral. "And I had requested such a secluded destination to escape the likes of…children," he finished in disgust as his upper lip snarled unflatteringly. Draco twitched ever so slightly before Malfoy pride took hold of him and he straightened his stance, looking the man defiantly in the eye and daring him to say more.

"I am here to enter the tower. Let me pass," the Malfoy heir demanded importantly, but the portrait continued to watch the boy with disdain.

"What makes you worthy to enter the tower, you incorrigible little swine? Do you not know who I am? I am Sir Bertrand Leavey, Master of the Dark Arts and head of the Leavey Estates. Proper respect is in order, boy!" he countered with an angry superciliousness that would have caused a lesser adversary to back down, but Draco already knew he had the upper hand.

"Do _you _not know who_ I_ am?" he shot back snidely. "I am Draco Malfoy, the Malfoy heir, and you owe my family a life debt." Suddenly, the portrait seemed to grow a bit muddled as the man shifted about in obvious nervousness.

"Malfoy, you say?" he inquired as the golden snake hissed softly from his arm. "No one has ever accused a Leavey of being less than honorable, but consider this your debt paid." Then the portrait swung away revealing a long and winding staircase enveloped in frightening shadows and voluminous cobwebs. Merlin! Draco hated the dark! But it was too late to turn back now. Cautiously, the blond climbed the stairs.

* * *

It was just before dinner and Harry was pouring over another letter from the other boy. He didn't have a lot of time before he'd need to make an appearance in the Great Hall. He knew that Hermione was suspicious of all the time he was spending in the library. Plus, Ron would be out of the hospital wing by now and he really did want to check on his previously "stoned" friend. Harry chuckled at the letter before him before composing his own and heading out to meet his friends for what was to be a very interesting dinner experience.

"**Dear Not As Bad As You Want Me to Believe,**

**You know, I'd almost like to see that, but don't worry about it. Believe me, I can fight my own battles and that little snob is no threat. **

**I agree that our families sound just the same except at opposite ends of the spectrum. It's nice to have someone to understand what that's like, but if your family is as bad as mine I feel really sorry for you. It really is annoying when others force their own beliefs on you. I never listen to it, and I'm glad you don't either. Sounds like you are more of a rebel for good than a devil, don't you think?**

**Anyway, I really need to get going and check on a friend of mine. Thanks for giving me a laugh. You always make my day.**

**Um…ciao, I guess,**

**Not Good with Foreign Languages**"

* * *

Draco stood admiring the massive stone gargoyle before him. He was mildly apprehensive about the whole ordeal, but he had taken all of the necessary precautions. He had made sure just that morning to slip Potter the counter spell for the gargoyle, and if the imbecile was too daft to get it, which was all too likely, then that was all right too. Draco was prepared for every possibility. Potter would not be asleep, would not be alone, and would not be caught at his most vulnerable. Sure, his father had commanded that he send the gargoyle out at night, but Draco could justify doing it earlier. He had detention half the night with the mangy werewolf, and it would be difficult to sneak out again after nearly being escorted back by a distrustful Lupin. Besides, who was to say he didn't think Potter was alone? He had seen him lurking about by himself near the library when Draco had left it. By now the foolish Gryffindor would be in the Great Hall under the protection of Dumbledore and all of the other professors, but no one could prove that Draco knew that. The sly Slytherin grinned to himself as he recited the enchantment that would awaken the beast from its stone slumber.

As the gargoyle came to life, the entire tower seemed to shake with rage. Hard stone became deep emerald skin as rough and thick as leather. Glowing red eyes burst through the rapidly escaping grey and fangs like a hundred knives bared themselves before its Slytherin accomplice. Draco gulped, unable to completely dispel his fear but knowing he must if he was to command the creature before him.

"I want you to find Harry Potter," he told the gargoyle in a trembling voice, "and kill him." Suddenly, the massive beast shot past the blond, frightful vein-filled wings held tightly back and gargantuan claws tearing apart even the stone floor as it fled. It was on a mission to kill, but it was unlikely to succeed. Well, probably.

Draco stood in the gargoyle's wake with a relieved expression taking hold of his countenance. But suddenly…another thought crossed his mind and his face fell just as quickly. Potter wasn't the only one in the Great Hall. No, he didn't care about the damned other students…except one. One boy he did care about very much, and wouldn't he be eating dinner in…

"SHIT!" Draco screamed as he bolted down the nearly destroyed spiral staircase. Hopefully he could get to the Great Hall in time.

* * *

"So Snape is just _letting _Malfoy get away with it?" Ron whined over the table.

"Looks like," Harry conceded. Ron groaned loudly, throwing his hands into the air before letting them rest forlornly on his face which was tilted upwards in an impressive show of misery and injustice. Hermione rolled her eyes at the display of excessive dramatics, but said nothing. This big red fire needed no more fuel.

"That's not surprising though, is it, mate?" the redheaded Gryffindor finally said. "I swear, Snape and Malfoy are in co-hoots together. It's like Death Eater extra-curriculars! Malfoy can just be a smarmy, self-centered, bad tempered, conceited little git right out in the open and Snape is there to shake his hand."

"I think Snape _would_ have shaken his hand if Malfoy was still there, actually," Harry conceded.

"Well, I think the whole thing is highly suspicious. He had this weird look in his eyes. I think he picked that fight for a reason, but I don't know why just yet," Hermione finally entered the conversation.

"Of course he picked it for a reason, Hermione! He's an attention hungry prat who lives to ruin our lives! And that look…that's just the madness. The utter Death Eater madness!" Ron argued loudly. Harry couldn't help but snicker. Ron had Malfoy down to a tee.

"Do you hear something?" Hermione asked in alarm as the ground beneath them abruptly began to vibrate. Suddenly, the doors to the Great Hall burst open and a ten foot creature screamed out in earsplitting fury, back arched violently and head thrust into the air. Enormous fangs reflected the light in a flash of cold ivory as the creature suddenly lurched forward into the spacious room.

"Grrraaa!" it screamed again as it bared its impressive claws and shot its angled head about the room in jagged movements, piercing red eyes searching through the students angrily.

"Everyone remain calm!" Dumbledore was telling them, but no one was calm. The Great Hall was a flurry of chaos as students from every year and every house trampled over one another in a desperate attempt to escape. Their terrified screams were only masked by the creature's own shrieks of rage.

"Quick!"

"Get out of my way!"

"What is that thing?"

"RUN!"

Hermione and Ron were at Harry's side in a flash, wands drawn and determination in the forefront.

"We've got to do something, Harry!" Hermione called to her friend.

"I know!" Harry called back as he turned to see that Dumbledore and the professors were effectively blocked behind a wall of crazed students who were crawling all over themselves in fear. The headmaster would never get there in time and the students were all over him.

Suddenly another figure burst through the door, a much smaller figure with white blond hair and a lean, slender build. Malfoy.

"Stop it!" the blond was screaming at the mountainous monster. "I command you to stop!" But the monster didn't stop. In fact, it seemed to become even more infuriated at the shrill cries and with no warning turned on the blond boy, baring its frightening fangs with face mere millimeters from the boy. So close it was that Draco could feel the thick saliva falling from the massive teeth and onto his robes. Draco's pale face contorted in horror and he shrilly shrieked out in glass shattering soprano. The gargoyle-like monstrosity roared back in a warning that echoed throughout the entire hall. In any other situation the expression on the Slytherin's face would have been hilarious as he turned tail and ran, hands flinging above his head and nearly tripping over his designer shoes on the way out of the hall.

With Malfoy gone, the creature was on a rampage. Swinging its razored tail viciously around its body as it darted around the Great Hall tearing up the floor, it stopped dead as it spotted Harry. Its eyes narrowed in…recognition?

"Mate, I think it wants to eat you!" Ron exclaimed fearfully.

The massive creature roared to life as it darted towards the ill-prepared wizard, but suddenly a feminine voice called out from somewhere off to the side.

"Leave him alone!" And a muffin went flying, hitting the grotesque beast squarely between the eyes. Harry turned at the same moment the beast did, the creature growling and shrieking manically.

"Ginny!" Harry called as the monstrosity was suddenly on its feet, lifting itself to its very impressive full height. It began to move swiftly towards the poor girl who was too frightened to move, too frightened to run. Without giving it a second thought, Harry rushed sideways, running at top speed and sliding in front of Ginny. He shoved her forcefully out of the way to face the fast approaching creature head on as it snatched the Gryffindor up by his collar and roared loudly in his face, bad breath, spittle, and all.

"Do something, Ronald!" Hermione could be heard in the background, but what was there to do? This thing was too big, too strong, too powerful. They needed Dumbledore, who was finally freeing himself from the students and rushing to their aid, but he would never make it in time to save Harry.

Suddenly…Harry remembered something from breakfast. Something Malfoy had said. _Wizarding 101, Scarhead. That spell could have turned something ten times the Weasel's size to stone._ That was it! But what was that…

"Fieri lapis!" Harry shouted as he flicked his wand and the stony grip on his collar became just that, stone. There Harry was, held several feet off the ground by a…statue? A gargoyle, he supposed. The frightful stone face was right up to his own, but struggle as he might the young wizard just couldn't get free.

"Well done, my boy! I believe a reward is in order, 150 points to Gryffindor!" Dumbledore congratulated as he pulled Harry from the gargoyle's grip. Harry fell harshly to the floor, and when he pushed himself back up the entire student body was cheering for him. Ginny Weasley grabbed him by the arm and kissed him wetly on the cheek.

* * *

Harry was among the students shuffling out of the Great Hall after the attack when a voice called out to him.

"Potter!"

"Malfoy!" Harry spat venomously as he spotted the other boy cowered outside the entrance. "What do you want!"

"Was anyone hurt?" the blond asked timidly.

"What do you care! I know you had something to do with that, Malfoy!"

"I didn't do anything, Potter! If I hadn't taught you that spell…"

"WHAT? I knew you were responsible! You did this!" the Gryffindor accused angrily.

"I saved you, Potter!" the Slytherin countered.

"After you endangered me! So what? Now you don't want to kill me, but you want to torture me? Is that it?" Harry shouted back.

"Just answer my question!" Malfoy yelled in frustration, eyes pleading for something.

"What question?" Harry demanded icily as the blond's demeanor seemed to droop even more.

"Was anyone hurt?" he pleaded.

"No one," Harry ground out, and Malfoy's face suddenly changed to that of…relief? With that, the blond turned around and ran away leaving a very confused Harry Potter.


	7. The Slytherin Seductress

**Chapter 7: The Slytherin Seductress**

It was late when Draco finally made his way back to the Slytherin dormitories. All detentions had been canceled for the night in light of the earlier events. He was surprised to see the common room as empty as it was. There was a mere handful of young Slytherins scattered about the room, a few third years chatting on the lush green sofa in front of the fireplace. Draco rolled his eyes. Most likely everyone was still milling about the Great Hall discussing Potter's pathetic heroics. Potter. That prat always had to find some way to show him up. Always had to be on top. They _should _have been talking about Draco. After all, didn't Draco put up a pretty good fight? Okay, so he ran away screaming like a frightened little girl….But it was a bloody GARGOYLE for Merlin's sake! What was he supposed to do? Sacrifice his safety like some damned Gryffindor? Pfft. Draco scoffed at the thought. Let Potter bask in his pathetic glory. Draco had his own glory, naturally. He was a Malfoy. He was a pureblood. He was rich, handsome, and…a coward. Damn Potter! But it had been _his _bloody spell! Didn't that count for anything? Gah! But he couldn't exactly boast about that if he didn't want it getting back to his father.…

Draco could hear the whispers among his fellow Slytherins as he marched up the stairs to his room. "Did you see what Potter did?" "Yeah, I sure did. I thought that thing would eat his face off. Too bad it didn't." "How did the gargoyle get into the school?" "I heard Potter brought it in so he could show off and make himself look good." "No, that's the dumbest thing I ever heard."

Draco winced. Idiots. At least it was good and quiet in his room. It was so wonderfully empty for the time being. It was just him and his nice, comfortable bed with soft silver colored sheets, a fluffy deep green blanket, welcoming hand-fluffed pillows, and PANSY BLOODY PARKINSON!

"What are you doing in my bed, Pans?" Draco asked the girl coolly, the exhaustion and frustration of the day clear in his voice.

"Waiting for you. I sent everyone else away, Draco. I told them that if they wanted to live to see tomorrow they'd better not disobey an angry woman with a wand and an arsenal of dark spells," she informed him rather seductively, her eyes never leaving his. Draco couldn't help but think she looked like a hungry vulture eyeing its next meal of already dead meat. He gulped.

"So that's why no one is here. Pansy, you are a conniving woman," Draco said confidently as he regained his composure.

"Yes, but that's what you like about me," the Slytherin seductress flirted, taking Draco's revelation as a compliment.

"Yes, it is," the blond Slytherin conceded, "but do you know what I don't like about you?"

"What's that, Drakey?" Draco winced at the nickname.

"That you're in my bed. Now, get out," he demanded coldly, but if Pansy noticed the harshness in his voice she paid it no mind.

"As you wish," she said with a false sense of innocence as she slowly removed herself from the Slytherin's bed, silky silver sheets pooling down her waist until she stood before him hungrily, a tight, green, low-cut nightgown clinging desperately to her supple bosom and fitted perfectly around her waist. Her eyes remained focused on her prey, never blinking.

This was bad. This was really bad! Pansy Parkinson was in _his _room, wearing next to nothing, and trying to seduce him. She had no idea that he couldn't possibly be any less interested, no idea that he was gay. It wasn't like he could tell her that, though. And how could he turn her away without looking suspicious? Here he was with a half dressed woman in his room practically giving it away! What kind of Malfoy wouldn't take advantage of this situation, whether he was interested in the girl or not? A gay Malfoy, that's what kind! And that's exactly what he was trying to prevent people from finding out. He gulped again.

"You know, I like you, Draco," she told him coyly as she began her slow, terrifying stroll towards him.

"Pansy, do you really think this is a good idea?" he asked her a little too quickly, but she didn't seem to notice.

"Of course this is a good idea, Draco," she informed him greedily. "Just think about it. It makes sense more than anything else. You and I. Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson. It's a perfect match, is it not?" She raised her eyebrow at her own logic as she continued. "It would be wonderfully advantageous to the both of us, darling. The power. The glory we would have by combining our families. The Malfoys and the Parkinsons working together. It would be the perfect life, Draco. We would have all the power we could dream of, the money, the influence, and each other, Draco. Isn't that what you want?" As she asked this last part she had come so close that Draco could feel her warm breath against his mouth; her body was practically pressed into his own as he leaned back towards his closed door. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't even think. He was mesmerized by her bold advances. "It makes sense, Draco. Don't you want to make sense?" she asked again, huskily.

He couldn't deny her words. It did make sense. It was what everyone wanted of him. It was what his father wanted. It was what the Dark Lord surely expected of one of his followers. And Draco himself couldn't deny that he _did _want everything to make sense. He wanted the mess that had become his life to just smooth over and let him be in peace. He wanted to end the worry, the fear. He wanted…He wanted things to just be easy. Normal. That's why, before he knew what he was doing, he grabbed Pansy firmly by the waist, jolted her around, and slammed her hard up against the door causing it to rattle at the unexpected force. Suddenly, his lips were pressed firmly on hers; strongly and desperately he deepened the kiss, forcing his way into her mouth. Her hot breath intermingling with his own, and her eyes closed tightly and dreamily. His hands held her tightly around the waist, his body slamming hard into hers. She groaned loudly at the sheer satisfaction of the situation. To any third party who would have seen the two, the kiss would have appeared magnificent. The passion, the pleasure, the force, and the longing desperation of it all were overwhelming. However, Draco Malfoy felt none of that. The appearance offered nothing but a lie. There was no passion. The kiss was emotionless, cold, without love, devoid of sentiment, understanding, and comfort. It felt so wrong. So dirty. So…so…hopelessly empty.

He pulled away from the female Slytherin hastily, stumbling backward a few steps. Panting hard, he used his sleeve to wipe across his mouth as he eyed the girl disdainfully. She looked back at him with lust filled eyes, her chest heaving as she watched him intently.

"That was amazing," she breathed.

"What? Pansy! That was traumatizing," Draco sputtered in shock and defeat. "We can't…we can't do this. We're friends, Pans. That's all. Friends. I don't…I don't think of you in that way. I just can't." A look of hurt, and then anger, flashed in her eyes before she returned to her state of determined temptation. She advanced on him quickly causing him to back up until he bumped into his bed and tripped backward onto the mattress. She was on him before he knew what was happening.

"Why, darling? Why don't you want us to be together?" she whined as she reached under his robes, undid his belt, and ripped it off of him with strength he didn't know she possessed.

"Get the bloody hell off me, Pansy!" Draco shrieked at the persistent Slytherin girl.

"No. Not until you tell me why, Draco. And I want a damn good answer!" she countered angrily as she pinned him to the bed. Merlin, this girl was strong. _Because I'm fucking gay, you blockhead! _the distraught blond was screaming in his mind. "Tell me why, Draco?" She demanded.

"Merlin, Pansy…" Draco whined at the girl, but she would have none of it. If she wasn't going to get what she wanted, she wanted a damned good excuse and she wasn't going to wait for it and give the Slytherin a chance to come up with a lie.

"Tell me, Draco. Tell me why," she repeated firmly.

"I can't, Pansy."

"Tell me!"

"I'm…I'm…" Draco stuttered.

"You're what, Draco?" she commanded of him.

"I'm in love with someone else!" he blurted out before he had the chance to realize what he was saying.

"WHAT!" the girl shrieked in a voice worse than nails on a chalkboard.

However, Draco was completely unfazed by the horrifying sound because for the first time he realized that he, indeed, was in love. What he had said to Pansy was not a lie, an excuse, it was completely true. He, Draco Malfoy, was 100 percent completely in love with the unknown young man whose notes he had come to rely on so much each day. The boy who was always there for him, who accepted him as he was, who knew him better than anyone else ever had or ever could. The boy who never judged him, who always listened, who always believed and trusted him. The boy who made him feel loved, cared for, and who made him feel like a person. The boy who never tried to use him, never tried to hurt him, never tried to force him to be someone he wasn't. The boy whom he could tell anything to and not feel ashamed or embarrassed. The boy who was always there for him. He loved that boy. And now, he knew it. How could he not have seen it before? Sure, he knew they shared a connection. It was obvious that he liked flirting with him and felt safe with him, but love? He really, really loved him! The realization was almost liberating.

"Who is she, Draco?" Pansy's demand interrupted him from his haze.

"_She _is no one that concerns you," Draco informed her firmly.

"I have a right to know, Draco," Pansy protested, clearly feeling completely scandalized by this unfortunate turn of events.

"And I have a right not to tell you," he tried to make himself clear.

"She must really be something then, Draco," Pansy continued. "But does she know you the way I do? Tell me, Draco, can she give you all those things that _I _can offer you?"

"She is nothing like you, Pansy. H..She is loving, and she listens to me. And she's brave, and kind, and…and caring, and always giving and compassionate, and funny and sweet, and just…the best thing to ever happen to me. Okay? So just drop it." He finished completely out of breath. He hadn't meant to say all of that to Pansy Parkinson, but he knew it was true. Well, maybe not the "she" part, but the rest of it was true.

"Oh Merlin, Draco," Pansy gasped, completely astonished. "So, that's why you won't give me a name," she stated knowingly and Draco went stiff. "She's a bloody Gryffindor!"

"A what?" the Slytherin prince gasped. "Pansy, what are you on about?"

"You're dating a Gryffindor!" she accused again.

"Pansy, I can assure you I am _not _dating a Gryffindor," Draco was quick to inform her, sneering at the very idea of it. Him? And a Gryffindor? Bloody hell no!

"Just listen to yourself, Draco," the green clad girl drawled back in a manner worthy of a Malfoy. "She's _suuuch_ a great listener. She's _brave, strong, caring, _and _loving. _Tell me that doesn't sound like you're talking about a Gryffindor." Draco's eyes went wide for an instant. Was he in love with a Gryffindor? Was that possible? Shit! Those qualities did sound a little Gryffindorish…very Gryffindorish. Well, that's just great. Now he would be _extra _dead when his family found out. A Gryffindor?

"Oh BLOODY HELL!" Draco couldn't repress his shock at this new revelation.

"Oh, don't worry, darling. I won't tell anyone about your…traitorous little affair," Pansy drawled evilly, taking his outburst as surprise towards her amazing deductive skills. "And when you tire of this little Gryffindor fling, this…hussy Gryffindor plaything, you know where to find me. When you want a _real _woman that is." Then she got off her trembling victim, strolled quickly out of the room, and shut the door hard. Draco sat up and shook his head.

"Pansy," he said in a very relieved voice, "I will _never _want a real woman." Then he got up off his bed and rushed out of the room himself, speeding towards the library and the book he shared with his hopefully _not _Gryffindor crush.

"**Dear Only Person I Can Talk to About This,**

**You'll never believe the MAJOR mistake I made tonight. I just kissed a girl! No, actually, I practically snogged her face off! Merlin, it was horrifying! I don't know how I let this happen. I just, for one bloody minute, thought…this is my chance to be normal. Everything could just be easy. But of course nothing is ever that simple!**

**Anyway, now I just feel dirty and wrong. She is supposed to be my friend and I practically used her and took advantage of her, not that I think she would have cared. What a bitch! She was waiting for me in my bed, practically naked. So anyway, then I freaked out and told her it was never going to happen. Now I'm pretty sure she's out to get me. What's wrong with me? **

**P.S. PLEASE tell me you're NOT a Gryffindor, right?**"

* * *

Every student from every house was in an uproar after Harry's victory over the gargoyle. Being awarded those 150 points certainly was an achievement, especially after all of the points Snape had taken from Gryffindor house that year. The only problem was Harry didn't particularly like all of the attention he was receiving. It was added pressure that he didn't need. More stares and more gossip. To top it all off, Ron seemed to have completely gotten the wrong idea from the whole ordeal.

"So, Harry," the redhead was saying excitedly. "That was so amazing how you saved Ginny from that gargoyle! Does that mean you like her now?"

"Seriously, Ronald. I think you should give it a rest," Hermione told her boyfriend when she noticed the distressed look on Harry's face.

"'Mione, all I'm saying," Ron justified to his friends, "is that it was kind of romantic how Harry rushed in front of Ginny like that and protected her. It was like something I would do for you." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'll believe that when I see it, Ronald," she informed him jokingly.

"Look, Ron," Harry cut in, "we've been through this before. It isn't like that. I mean, I would have saved anyone in that situation. Ron, I would have saved my worst enemy if I could. It's the right thing to do, that's all. Merlin, I probably would have saved Malfoy if he hadn't run off screaming. I suppose that means I want to 'romanticize' him as well?" Ron looked utterly disgusted at the turn in the conversation.

"Mate, please never put that image in my head again," the redhead pleaded. Suddenly Harry looked mortified too.

"No, Ron…I…I wouldn't….You know I can't stand Malfoy!" Harry protested. Then, Ron started laughing hysterically.

"Relax, Harry," he reassured his friend, "I know you're not that way." Harry was suddenly very uncomfortable, but he chuckled nervously anyway. "Although," Ron thought aloud, "come to think of it, Malfoy seems kind of poncy."

"I have to go…see something," Harry stood quickly and blurted suddenly as his two friends looked at him strangely.

"What is it, Harry?" Hermione wondered.

"An assignment. MY assignment. I have an assignment," the nervous Gryffindor sputtered.

"Harry, you have to see your assignment?" Ron asked him, completely lost, causing Harry to genuinely laugh.

"No, I have to see a book about my assignment," he explained, finally calming down. He really hoped he was making sense now.

"Oh!" Hermione shouted excitedly. "Not that same book you've been after all year? I really need to give that one a read! I have to go to the library too, Harry. Maybe we can go together and I can help…"

"No! I have to do this one on my own, Hermione, but thanks," Harry told his favorite witch as he smiled warmly.

"Alright then, good luck," she told him as he left and rushed to his sanctuary. Once there, he searched through the blue binding book and found exactly what he was looking for.

"**Dear Only Person I Can Talk to About This,**

**You'll never believe the MAJOR mistake I made tonight…**"

Harry smiled as he read the note, and he couldn't help but laugh at the situation a little. This, he could relate to. He remembered kissing Cho, and Ginny telling him she liked him. He definitely had a little bit of experience with this kind of thing, though maybe not in the exact same way. Thus, he did his best to comfort his newfound friend…sort of…

"**Dear Super Snogger,**

**I wouldn't worry too much about this. I doubt she is really out to get you. She just feels rejected. How did you let her down? Anyway, I don't think there's anything wrong with you. I know what it's like to want to be normal and wish that life could be a little easier. I don't think it ever will be for us, though. I've accepted that I'm gay and I can't do anything about it. I think you should too or you'll be miserable. I mean, if you don't like girls in your bed now, imagine waking up to one there every morning? **

**But I get how you must feel about not being able to tell her the truth. It's hard when it's a friend and you want to be honest but you just feel like you can't be. I still haven't told anybody. I don't know if they would understand. Maybe they would, but the timing feels all wrong. Or maybe I'm just afraid. I'm not as brave as everyone always thinks I am.**

**Anyway, I don't think you took advantage of this girl. From what you said, it sounds like she was trying to take advantage of you? I hope you weren't too hard on her, though. There is a girl who likes me too. It's a difficult situation. Sometimes, I don't know what to tell her. I don't want to lie. What did you say?**

**Sincerely,**

**100 Percent Pure Gryffindor, of course.**

**P.S. Wait, maybe I'm reading you wrong, but that seemed like a derogatory way to ask me that. Merlin, tell me you're not a Slytherin?**"

* * *

Draco awoke the next morning feeling surprisingly light. His father was going to be furious at his failure, the Dark Lord even more so, and once again Potter had showed him up in front of the entire Hogwarts population. But what did all that really matter? As many things were looking down, just as many were looking up. His month's worth of detentions was finally coming to an end, and Lupin really hadn't been that awful. At least he didn't have to scrub Moaning Myrtle's bathroom by hand. Ha! Pathetic Potter. Yet, the brightest bit came from Draco's epiphany just the night before. He fancied the bloke with the letters. More than fancied, actually. That should have been dreadful news. Draco had already decided never to meet the other boy and never to admit to his sexuality, but suddenly he wasn't so sure.

Draco couldn't help but wonder what his life could be like. How he could feel wanted and accepted for who he actually was instead of what society demanded of him. No, he wasn't ready to announce this to the whole wizarding world, and he certainly wasn't ready to give up his prestigious life as the Malfoy heir. Why the hell would he want to do something like that? However, that didn't mean he didn't want to explore this new emotion, understand what it meant for him and what it could mean for his future. Draco Malfoy was a calculative sort if nothing else, and he was prepared to weigh his options. Maybe he wasn't rash enough to just jump in, but that didn't mean he couldn't get his feet wet.

Draco showered quickly and rushed up to the library before the others had even woken. He didn't need them asking questions, and the amount of time he was spending in the library was already earning him weird glances and curious whispers. No matter if he looked like a Ravenclaw, just so long as it didn't get around to his father. Lucius Malfoy knew suspicious activity like none other.

Carefully preparing himself he opened the binding book and pulled out the piece of parchment. Hmm. Well of course it was a damned Gryffindor! That was just Draco's luck! Well, that changed everything! Except…it didn't. Damn! It didn't change a bloody thing! Draco knew what he should do. Knew he should just ignore the feelings, repress them until he was numb.

But here he was, Draco Malfoy, in love with a Gryffindor. Another boy. To hell with getting his feet wet. Everyone's got to jump in sometime.

"**Dear Gryffindor,**

**I told her I was in love with someone else…and I meant it.**

**Slytherin**"

Okay, short and sweet and right to the point. But what else was there to say? It's not like Draco had ever done anything like this before. It was quite eloquent if you asked him. Malfoys don't need to waste their time on damn love poems and all that ridiculous swooning and wooing. So, that was that then. Now just the long and excruciating wait for a response…

* * *

"**Dear Gryffindor,**

**I told her I was in love with someone else…and I meant it.**

**Slytherin**"

Harry read before quietly shutting the book and staring off into space. Well, that was unexpected…


	8. Confessional

**Chapter 8: Confessional**

Harry continued to stare blankly at the parchment as his heart plummeted out through his shoes and all but shattered on the ground before him. No one was looking in his direction; no one was even in the same vicinity, but it didn't matter. Harry felt exposed, torn open and ripped apart like an unwanted candy wrapper. Surely if anyone looked at him they'd know that the world had clearly ended. Harry's Slytherin was in love with someone. The dramatic, rebellious, and unnervingly addictive Slytherin had fallen in love with another boy before Harry even had the chance to realize his own feelings. It hadn't occurred to him before. Maybe it should have, but he was still coming to terms with his sexuality and what it would mean for him. The other boy had sneaked in past all of his barriers and built a strong and sturdy foundation in his most vulnerable organ, all while Harry was looking the other way. He felt so stupid – so lost. He shuddered as an imaginary chill wracked through his core. Should he tell the other boy about his feelings? Should he shut up and be supportive? These were impossible questions. He pulled out his quill and composed his reluctant reply.

"**Oh…I hope you'll be very happy together…"**

Then he tucked his quill back into his robes, replaced the binding book, and trudged forlornly out of the library. He had written another cliché, but the gears in his mind felt rusted over and he didn't know what else to say. Slytherin or not, love was love, and Harry wanted his love to be happy.

"Whoa, Harry, just a minute," Remus called to him as Harry was rushing down the corridor with tears threatening to convey his deepest secret. "Is something wrong, Harry? You look a little peaked." The concern was evident in the werewolf's tired and aging features, but Harry wasn't ready to tell anybody about his troubles just yet. Besides, he wasn't exactly in the mood for talking.

"I'm fine," the young wizard answered simply, but the paleness of his skin and distant look in his glasses-clad eyes said otherwise.

"Are you sure? Harry, you know you can talk to me if you need to. I'm more than just your teacher; I'm your friend too," the professor insisted as he handed him a piece of chocolate and an assurance that he would feel better. Harry seemed to consider his words for a second before sighing deeply. His eyes dropped to the ground before he spoke again.

"Have you ever been in love, Professor?" Harry asked nervously as his gaze never left his shoes. He wasn't sure what he intended to tell Lupin, but somehow he had lost control of his mouth.

"Sure, Harry. Is that what this is about? A girl?" Remus questioned his pupil sympathetically. The werewolf did know a thing or two about love and about schoolboy crushes, especially the unrequited kind. Being a werewolf did make his love-life rather complicated, and girls didn't tend to go for the fur and fang look. However, despite Remus's attempt to convey comfort and understanding, his words only seemed to upset the boy more. Now Harry stood before him with his fists tightly clenched and his eyebrows furrowed in an uncharacteristic frustration and anger.

"No! That's not….This was a mistake, Professor Lupin. Forget I said anything," Harry replied heatedly before pushing past the confused man and running down the hallway. Remus allowed a smile to grace his lips at the idea of Harry's first love. Ginny Weasley, he suspected. It would all work out in the end.

* * *

Draco rolled his eyes at the note he'd found ferociously shoved into the thick, blue book. Did he seriously have to spell it out for the Gryffindork? Well, at least the obvious display of jealously and heartbreak was a testament to one thing: his feelings were returned. The Slytherin prince grinned sheepishly at the thought. He quickly responded and returned the binding book to its rightful place on the shelf. It was best to do these things in haste; he knew how he would be reacting to such a conclusion and it wasn't pretty.

Potions class that day was an incessant drone and ramble of incomprehensible lecturing. Draco simply wasn't paying attention. He hardly cared what Severus was saying when he was so much closer to answering the riddle of his secret pen pal. Even the wonderfully entertaining sight of Potter moping in a display of utter emo despair between the Weasel and Granger didn't keep his attention long. After all, with the knowledge that he was looking for a Gryffindor came the ability to cut his possibilities in half – even more actually. The fact of the matter was that Draco simply did not like the vast majority of Gryffindors. So, he reasoned, he was seeking out a male Gryffindor that was not entirely reprehensive. He allowed his eyes to scan over his prospects as he weighed them against the characteristics and personality traits of his Gryffindor. Granger…too female; Weasley…too Weasley; Potter…too annoying; Longbottom…too pure-blood. Thomas and Finnigan seemed to be possibilities, but he wasn't sure about his ability to adapt to Finnigan's accent whispering longingly in his ear. And on he went, checking off each Gryffindor in his mind until he eventually gave up. He just couldn't be certain. Of course, he realized, it didn't really matter. He didn't need a name or face. Not yet. He knew all he needed to know without them, and he was afraid that once he connected the name with some degree of certainty that it would complicate things until everything fell apart. It would be more real with a name. It would be more taboo if it was real. And even more dangerous.

"Keep in mind that your essays will be due at the end of next week," Snape was saying as the class ended and the students prepared their belongings for dismissal. He then turned his cold gaze to his godson as he bore those icy eyes into the blond boy. "If any of you feel the need to change your topic, I would do so immediately. You will be brewing your potions in class with a demonstration of their effectiveness as a final project."

The room went deathly quiet at the news before the students began to groan and murmur their disapproval to their friends. Advanced potions were hard enough to brew without Snape breathing down their necks like a hungry, black dragon plotting the demise of its prey. Yet, Draco had suspected as much and remained undeterred. Unfortunately, Severus Snape was a persistent man and made a point of calling his godson to his desk as the other students scurried quickly from the room.

"I'm not changing my topic, Severus," Draco stated stubbornly as he approached his most respected professor. He could be persistent as well. Draco was still missing excessive amounts of necessary information, and he doubted he could write a decent essay with what little facts he had been able to gather; Severus had been right in saying it was the most difficult and little information was available. However, Draco clutched to that topic like he would his wand in a dual to the death. It was a connection to the other boy, and he had never experienced a deeper connection in his entire life. The fear of severing it was simply too intense.

"I would ask that you reconsider, Draco," the greasy, bat-like man advised sincerely. "I don't know what it is you are trying to prove, but I assure you that you have nothing to prove to me."

"I'm not trying to prove anything," Draco insisted. "Maybe I just like to be challenged." The Potions Master's gaze seemed to bore into him even more deeply as he persisted. Then, the man pulled an old tome from his dusty desk and opened to a page that had already been bookmarked. At the top read, "The Love Binding Potion: Eternal Potions and Their Effects"

"Do you know what this is, Draco?" Snape asked and his student shook his head dumbfounded. His favorite teacher had had this book the entire time and allowed him to struggle on his own? He hadn't mentioned one word about it – not one. "This is the most comprehensive text in the world on the Love Binding Potion. I want you to take this with you and let it convince you of what I have not been able. That potion is deadly, Draco. I will allow no student to brew it in this classroom. The effects are…unpredictable. It is the most powerful binding potion known to the wizarding world. If effective, it binds two lovers together for eternity: their very souls, their magic, their emotions bound forever and giving them enormous strength and power."

"That doesn't sound so bad," the young Slytherin interrupted defiantly, but Severus continued on as if he hadn't heard him speak.

"The trouble with the potion is that it is so rarely effective. It only works on true lovers. Those whose bond is already powerful. Those who would die for one another. But that kind of true love is rare, especially in ones as young as yourself. Teenagers mistake every little emotion – lust, infatuation, loneliness, it doesn't matter – with love. The Love Binding Potion is designed to weed out the cheap imitations, and it will kill the two individuals immediately upon consumption if their bond is not strong enough." Snape finished his monologue with a confident sneer, knowing that Draco would have no choice but to reconsider. The boy was acting a fool, and for what? The truth was, Severus did care for the boy. He was the son he'd never had.

"But then why is it even on the list? If it is so dangerous and you won't let us brew it anyway?" the prince of Slytherin asked hotly.

"The list is a test of your skills as well," Severus explained with a sigh. "My students need to learn to choose wisely, especially in times like these. I did expect some of my more foolish students to select such an impossible task, and they would deserve the failing grade on lack of good judgment alone, but I never imagined one of my Slytherins to fall into such an obvious trap. That is why I am telling you now, Draco. Do not be a fool. I know you are bright enough to get it done, and I would be willing to offer you an extension under the circumstances. Now, will you revise your topic?"

"Well, I don't see that I have any other choice," Draco finally conceded. He should have been offended by his professor's implications that he was becoming a Potter-like buffoon, but his mind was otherwise occupied. He would have to let his Gryffindor know about this turn of events right away. Taking the old tome (in case he needed any extra convincing) Draco strode coolly from the room, leaving behind a very relieved Snape in his wake.

* * *

Harry was in the library again. He didn't know why. The blue binding book was dry of information he desperately needed, and he didn't know that he could bear to read another note from his Slytherin pen pal. Yet, broken heart or no, he was unable to resist. It was like when the other students had gossiped so heatedly about him following Cedric's death. He knew he should protect his heart by not listening to it, and yet he was drawn to it – needing to know what was being said about him. Even now, he couldn't resist the heartache. He just needed to know. Luckily, he made the right decision.

"**Dear Gryffindork, **

**What the bloody hell is wrong with you? If you are seriously this dense, then I can see why you're so desperate for a good grade on your essay. I was talking about you, blockhead! I am IN LOVE with YOU! Do I have to make it so obvious for you to understand!**

**I don't know what's wrong with me. I just can't stop thinking about you. I don't know what I expect to happen between us, but I think I would regret if I didn't tell you. No one else knows the real me. I have never felt this exposed before, and I have never felt this safe.**

**Now stop turning me into a sap! We can't go on like this. If you want to end this now, then just let me know. I just want to know the truth. But I know that there is something here.**

**Yours,**

**Annoyed Again"**

Harry smiled at the note as he carefully folded it up and tucked it away for safe keeping – his first real love letter (sort of). There was definitely "something here." Harry knew this boy well enough to know that he would never throw words like "love" around without meaning them. He wasn't like the rest of the dreamy eyed, love-crazy teenagers at Hogwarts. He'd been searching for real love his entire life – in his family, his friends, his professors – and now he had found it in Harry. And Harry felt the same way. Sure, his friends loved him dearly. But there were parts of himself he couldn't share even with them – the real him, and only his Slytherin knew who that person was. Taking out his own parchment he wrote:

"**Dear Annoying Again,**

**Sorry I jumped to conclusions, but you weren't very specific. You've never really hinted at this before, or maybe I just missed it. I have to admit, though, that I've been feeling it too. I can tell you things that I can't tell my best friends. I can just be me, and you accept me for all of that. And you…you are so bloody arrogant, rude, and dramatic. But I wouldn't have you any other way because under all of that you are passionate, sincere, honest, and emotional. I guess what I am trying to say is…I think I've fallen in love with you too. Damn, how did we let this happen? Where do we go from here?**

**Your Gryffindor Boyfriend (if you want)"**

* * *

Draco made his way up to the library, tome firmly tucked away in his bag, and ran smack into none other than Harry Potter.

"Get out of my way, Scarhead," Draco grumbled as he pushed the annoying prat out of the way. The last thing he needed was Saint Potter getting into his business right now. Harry glared angrily back, though – clearly displeased with being shoved around so haphazardly by the impatient Slytherin.

"Bit strange to see you here, Malfoy," Harry shot disdainfully at the boy's retreating back. "I thought you were getting all your research directly from Snape these days." Draco spun around abruptly at the accusation. He supposed he had a few minutes to spare to put the self-righteous prat in his place.

"Oh right, how could I have forgotten? Our savior Potter knows all. What reason could I, a student, have to go to the library? Especially since Professor Snape is writing the whole essay for me," he drawled sarcastically with a haughty eye roll. Was Potter everywhere? Seriously? Did he live to annoy Draco?

"That sounds about right," Harry interrupted the blond's reverie.

"Believe it or not, Potter," Draco shot back fiercely, "Professor Snape has been making this whole essay nonsense just as much trouble for me as for anyone else. Probably even more so because he has certain expectations of my abilities to perform in his class. Clearly, you wouldn't understand about that. We can't all have Dumbledore writing us free passes into advanced classes, pet."

"Dumbledore didn't write me a pass into the class!" Harry shouted angrily as he barely contained himself from jumping the infuriating nuisance. "I earn my own marks!"

"And so do I!" Draco informed him roughly before shoving his heavy burden higher onto his shoulder and entering the library. Harry sighed to himself, exhausted and frustrated once again. And he had been in such a good mood too. Damn Slytherins were twisting his life in every direction.

Draco sat down at a nearby table with the binding book. He pulled out the note and instantly felt relief flood his veins. He wasn't alone. Maybe he did need to change his topic, but that didn't mean he couldn't still pursue this thing with his "boyfriend." Draco smiled warmly at the word, hoping nobody was around to see him grinning like a Hufflepuff. Rest of the world be damned, he deserved a little bit of happiness, didn't he? When he replaced the book, he made certain to set the tome over the top of it on the shelf, the section on the Love Binding Potion still bookmarked. He wouldn't be able to part with it for long; Severus had clearly instructed him to take great care of it. But he figured he could pick it up tomorrow morning before class, giving his "boyfriend" time to read it and his letter sometime before or after dinner tonight.

* * *

Harry sat back hard with a wide-eyed stare on his face. He pushed the old tome away from him on the table as he read the letter once again.

"**Dear Boyfriend,**

**Of course I want it. I just don't know how we're going to do this. It's probably the stupidest and rashest thing I have ever done, and I seriously have no idea if we can make this work. I mean. I don't even know your name. My family would kill me if they knew I was gay. Dating a boy in Gryffindor is just that much worse. We'll have to be careful. I just can't go on like I have been. Just don't tell anyone. Not anyone!**

**Also, we need to talk about the potion. I set a book about it on top of this one. Check the bookmark. Apparently, we can't brew this potion. Not if we need to 'test the effectiveness' in class. Maybe we can still work together on another topic. Let me know what you think. The Memory Enhancement Draught and 24-Hour Luck Potion seem like good choices to me. We don't have a lot of time to make a decision. **

**Anyway, I need to pick up the other book in the morning so make sure to leave it in the same place. I look forward to your reply.**

**Love,**

**Your Snake**

**P.S. I am not arrogant, rude, and dramatic! What's wrong with showing a little pride? Better than being excessively innocent, naïve, stubborn, and sensitive I'd say. But maybe I like those things about you too…"**

Harry couldn't believe it. Finally, he had enough information to finish the essay properly, and he couldn't use it. He didn't want to fail the class, and he didn't want to die from a potion that was likely only to bind him to death, but he had somehow grown attached to the topic. Maybe he was merely being sentimental, but he had felt compelled by this potion from the very beginning. And now Harry had been able to come out to someone and even made a new friend and boyfriend because of it. He really didn't want to change topics, but what else could he do? Unless…

Wasn't there another option? Okay, so he didn't know this boy in person. For all he knew it was Nott, Zabini, or even that loathsome Goyle. Offering to bind himself for all eternity to one of the Slytherins was foolhardy at best and suicidal at worst. Not to mention, what if his feelings changed when he found out who it was? But then again, Harry really didn't think that was possible. There was no one he could be that could change Harry's mind about his feelings. For that reason, he was positive that his idea would work.

"**Dear Snakeface,**

**I have another idea. I know that you don't really want to come out to your family or the other Slytherins. I know that you would have to give up a lot to do that. I know that this really is rash and that we don't actually know each other's identities. I just have to wonder what good it is going to do us to keep lying and hiding. Eventually people will find out, one way or another. And by then, if we aren't together and we have to face it alone, especially you with all of that pureblood drama you go on about so much, it's going to be hell. Why don't we do this together? At the end of final term, we can brew it together in class. Don't ask me how I know this, but I am positive this will work.**

**Hopefully yours,**

**Take a Risk with Me" **

The next morning, Harry was tempted to go to the library early and catch a glimpse of his secret lover. Eventually he put the idea to rest, not wanting to break the other boy's trust. Instead, he headed up after his morning classes and immediately noticed the other large book missing. With some trepidation he pulled out a tiny piece of parchment and unfolded it to find one single word.

"**Yes."**


	9. If Only You Knew

**Chapter 9: If Only You Knew**

Over the next week, Draco had tremendous difficulty in accepting his decision. He hadn't really thought it through when he'd agreed to the other boy's proposal. He was just so caught up in the emotion of discovering that the Gryffindor was willing to give it all up to be with him. He also shared the other boy's confidence that the potion would work for them and not result in a gruesome double death in front of the entire class (provided they could get Snape to let them brew it at all). The thing he hadn't really considered, though, was how difficult it would be for him. At the end of the year, everyone would know that Draco Malfoy was gay. They would know that he was in love with another boy, one without pureblood lineage – a half blood or even a mudblood. A Gryffindor. He'd be called a blood traitor among other much worse things. His family would have nothing to do with him, and if he ever dared to go home he knew he'd be on the fast road to the Dark Lord's prison to be prepared for public slaughter. It couldn't get any worse unless it was Harry Potter himself he'd fallen for. Thank Merlin for small miracles (even Draco wasn't ready for that).

Regardless, he couldn't bring himself to back out now. Life was a series of pain, torment, danger, and fear no matter what he chose. Ultimately, it came down to whether he suffered these vices alone or with someone who had the power to make him fight for what he wanted, for life. He only hoped that he wasn't jeopardizing his boyfriend's life as well. After all, he wasn't a pureblood; he might just be able to get away with this if only he found a soul mate who wasn't Draco Malfoy. Still, Draco had to admit that his Gryffindor was adamant about the dangers of his own coming out, about the deeply rooted expectations everyone held of him. Perhaps it wasn't so different, pureblood or muggle-born, after all.

The connection between the two star crossed lovers had only strengthened over the course of the week as the two shared in the planning of their final project. In some ways, it was almost a relief for the both of them. The burden they'd been forced to carry would finally be lifted from their aching shoulders, and whatever happened next would not make such a heavy load when there were two to carry it together. And so, when the following Friday had rolled around, the Gryffindor and the Slytherin had each handed in their extensive essays on the Love Binding Potion.

As the professor entered the classroom on Monday morning, he certainly did not look pleased. He said not a single word as he quickly marched to the front of the room with dark robes billowing intimidatingly behind him. His cold, hard face was very nearly unreadable, but in his demeanor there was an intense displeasure as he ripped the piles of essays from where he had encased them.

"Absolutely pathetic!" Snape bellowed menacingly as he raised the stack into the air, long, gnarled fingers clenching tightly to the parchment and creasing it with violent crinkles of protest. "Even I am astounded by the quality – or lack thereof – in these ridiculous pieces of rubbish. Have the students of this school truly become so incompetent? If this is the future of the wizarding community, we have little to look forward to."

As the aggravated professor ended his tirade, he began angrily and abruptly passing the essays back to the frightened students, practically shoving them into their shaking, little hands. Granger looked quite ecstatic at her marks, Draco noted with barely restrained annoyance. It was obvious by Severus's countenance as he tossed her the paper that he had given her the grade begrudgingly. A prolonged and rather noisy groan could be heard escaping the Weasel's massive yap as he looked at his own assignment, but it was Potter's reaction that was most interesting. The pathetic Boy-Who-Lived looked about to explode as he stood abruptly, knocking his hapless seat to the cold, stone floor.

"You're failing me?!" he shouted in disbelief at Severus's now amused face. "You can't do that! I did the work!"

"I assure you I can," the greasy man silkily informed the furious boy. "I have to wonder, Potter, where exactly you stumbled upon the information you've included in this essay. I know for a fact that none of this knowledge is readily available anywhere on Hogwarts grounds or even in Wizarding Britain for that matter. Do you think I can't smell a cheat as clear as the pungent odor of ignorance clinging to that pathetic little head of yours. Oh, I know all about your late night descents into the castle, scurrying about in the shadows like a shameful little rat and spying, creating mischief at every available opportunity. But cheating, Mr. Potter? Did you really think such an egregious act would go unpunished? You are lucky I don't take you straight to the headmaster and have you expelled." He ended the monologue with a menacing glare, daring the boy to challenge him. Daring the fool to test him. To see just how serious he was.

"I didn't cheat!" Potter fell right into the trap. Draco snickered triumphantly as the situation unfolded. So, Potter was nothing but a cheater. And after all of those indignant accusations about Draco not earning his marks! Perhaps he really would be expelled. It would save Draco a lot of trouble, and then he wouldn't have to worry about the thorn taunting him when the truth came out at the end of the year.

He often wondered now if he and his Gryffindor would be able to stay at Hogwarts at all after their public declaration, what with the Slytherins and the Golden Trio harassing them every step of the way. And then there were the Gryffindors. Draco knew about how they operated. Surely they would blame him for corrupting one of their own (because obviously what Gryffindor would ever willingly choose to be with a Slytherin for the rest of his life?). But of course they would soon be of age, and they really need not return the following year if the situation became too precarious.

"Out now, Potter! We will address this matter privately at a more appropriate time." Snape dismissed the clod, and Potter grabbed his books harshly and stormed from the tension filled room amongst whispers, curious gazes, and supportive murmurs of sympathy.

After Potter had gone, Snape finished passing back the essays. Draco felt his gut clench nervously as he willed himself to look down at his own grade, knowing that Severus would not be happy with his blatant disregard. However, when he finally looked down at the parchment, there was no grade to be seen – only the words "_See me!"_ scrawled angrily across the top.

The rest of the period seemed to drone on in agonizing slowness as Draco dreaded the conversation to come. What was he going to tell his godfather? He honestly didn't know how to answer that, but he remained committed to his decision and refused to let Severus scare him into submission. He would do this for his Gryffindor. But Severus seemed in a foul mood after the class and dismissed him quickly, ordering that he come to him in the dungeons that night for a very serious conversation.

* * *

As Draco did his solemn death march through the dungeon corridors on his way to Professor Snape's office, he couldn't help but worry that this was going to be much worse than if he'd been able to get it over with after Potions class. At least that way, with the pressing matter of other classes he needed to attend, he would have been able to limit the demeaning lecture he was sure to get. Now there was no escaping. The reluctant blond rapped nervously on the ominous door before being granted permission by the snarky Potions Master.

"You wished to see me, sir?" the Slytherin asked cautiously. The glare the elder was giving him was quite unsettling.

"Yes," Snape finally answered after a long calculating pause. "It seems you have been in quite the expanse of trouble this year, Draco. When last I spoke with your father, Lucius seemed quite…dissatisfied in your attempt with the gargoyle. He is under the impression that you did not follow his orders verbatim."

"An understandable error on my part," Draco attempted to convince the man. "Potter had been lurking around the hallway by the library alone the last I saw of him. I didn't want to miss out on the perfect opportunity. How was I to know he'd be in the Great Hall? He's been late for dinner before." The Slytherin did his best to guile his godfather with his false display of confidence, but Severus was a Slytherin as well – head of Slytherin, in fact – and knew all the tricks far better than the still rather innocent (considering his upbringing) student before him.

"I would not call upon the ire of Lucius Malfoy, Draco," Severus warned. "He will see to it that you do not disobey him again." Draco visibly shivered before him, and Severus suspected that the boy had learned these lessons far too many times already. Unfortunately, he had no place to intervene here. The Dark Lord would never allow it, despite his duties as the boy's teacher. It was a corrupt time in which they lived. "Now on to more pressing matters," Snape continued with an exasperated sigh.

"My essay, I know," Draco grumbled forlornly. "But it is over and done with now. Give me any grade you want."

"I explained this to you, Draco!" The menacing man was livid at Draco's obvious insolence. Didn't he see that Snape was trying to help him? "Why did you disobey me?" he demanded an answer.

"I had my reasons," the young Malfoy stated flatly. That was all he was willing to give.

"You will not be able to brew the potion, Draco. It is an essential part of your grade for the class. Now, perhaps it is not too late. Have you told anyone about your topic?" Snape insisted of him.

"Not exactly," Draco replied honestly. After all, his Gryffindor had no idea that _Draco Malfoy _wrote about the Love Binding Potion in his essay.

"Then there is a solution to this dilemma that you have so foolishly thrust upon yourself," his professor supplied. "You will brew another potion for your final. No one need be any the wiser."

"No!" Draco shouted back, surprising even himself with his sudden outburst. Now Snape was staring at him as if he'd gone completely bonkers, a hydra with three brains telling him three different things at once.

"No?" He questioned as soon as he recovered from his shock. What in Merlin's name could be wrong with the boy?

"No," Draco repeated firmly. It was too late to back down now. "I intend to brew the Love Binding Potion." Severus recognized the stubborn look in his godson's eyes immediately, and he was flabbergasted.

"And where do you intend to get the ingredients, Draco? Do you think I have rindill feathers just sitting about my stock room?"

"I could go to Diagon Alley," Draco began to explain uncertainly before being interrupted by his cynical teacher.

"Oh, I assure you that you won't find one there. In fact, it would be quite the miracle if you came up with one anywhere. But for argument's sake, let's say that you do. Who, pray tell, is expected to drink your deadly little concoction?" Snape clearly believed he'd backed his student into a corner, but Draco seemed to have discovered some deeply rooted intrepidness since coming to his office.

"I will," and Draco's voice didn't even falter. Snape just stared at his pupil for a minute before realization struck.

"You ridiculous child!" he bellowed. "All this turmoil for a girl? If this is about that Parkinson girl, Draco…you will throw two lives away with this idiocy." But the disgusted look on the young blond's face told him that he had it all wrong. Whatever was going on, it had nothing to do with Pansy Parkinson. Yet, Severus had never seen Draco expend much time or effort with any other girl. His confusion irked him immensely.

"This isn't about Pansy, Sev! This isn't about girls! You just don't get it! My life is over anyway! Nothing I do can change that! I've been learning Occlumency, but it would take just one mistake, one faltering, and it would all be over! He'd know! And he'd kill me for sure!" By now the boy was hysterical, screaming at the top of his lungs like a disoriented banshee. It was difficult for the snarky professor to make out all of the words among the hysterics, but he managed it.

"Find out what? Who's going to kill you, Draco?"

"My father and the Dark Lord!" Draco shrieked out.

"Why?" Snape shouted back, more confused than ever. But the Slytherin was shaking violently and didn't answer, so he grabbed him around the shoulders and shook him hard to garner his attention. He needed to know what was going on with his favorite student, and somehow he knew that it went far deeper than the failed gargoyle attempt. Lucius would punish the boy for that, and quite severely, but not kill him. Draco would know that. "Why, Draco?!" Snape was shouting at him again. "Why would they kill you?!"

"Because I'm gay!" And just like that, it was out. Draco had never meant to say that, and now he was terrified of his professor's response to him. The room was deathly still, quiet as after a freshly fallen snow, but nowhere near as peaceful.

"Draco," Severus eventually ventured into the silence, all venom gone from his voice. He simply sounded…lost. And defeated. "Do you mean to imply that you are homosexual?"

"I'm not implying anything!" Draco snapped. "I'm outright saying it…" his voice ended in a tired whine and suddenly he was crying openly, slumping back into his chair and rocking back and forth with his arms pulled tightly around him. Severus knew that he should comfort the boy, but he was too stunned to do so. Instead, he slumped limply into his own chair as he thought about what this would mean for the Slytherin who had become something of a son to him over the years. Severus held no adversity toward homosexuality. Whether Draco was gay or not, he cared for the boy all the same. But he was a half-blood himself. The Dark Lord certainly held such things in great disdain, and the majority of purebloods as well. Unfortunately, Draco found himself in both circles. No, Severus could not let this happen. He certainly did not want to push the youth into a life of fear and hiding, always pretending to be someone he wasn't, but the alternative was death. That simply was not acceptable.

"Listen to me, Draco." Even Snape could not keep the shaking from his voice. "You will not act on this. As long as the Dark Lord lives you must never, _never_, act on what you have just told me. Do you understand me?" Draco's tearstained face looked up at him for a fraction of a second before going hard.

"How can you say that to me?" he questioned shrilly. "How can _you, _of all people, tell me that?!"

"What in Merlin's beard are you talking about?"

"Do you honestly think I don't know what you are?" Draco asked hotly. "You're a spy for Dumbledore!" The Potions Master stiffened at the accusation. There was no way Draco should have known that.

"That is preposterous, Mr. Malfoy," Snape reasoned coolly, but Draco could not be put off now.

"You should give me more credit, Professor," the Slytherin drawled certainly. "I'm observant, you know. Don't worry. The others don't know. But I could figure it out. I get dragged there too: the meetings, the raids, the plotting, the punishments, the…butcherings," the Slytherin prince explained knowingly. "You hide it well, but I know you better than anyone. Your face may be blank, but I see it in your eyes. You don't want to be there any more than I do. It hurts you too, to see what they do. So I thought about it. Why wouldn't you just run away and go into hiding if you hate it so much? Why participate? Then I figured it out. You're spying for Dumbledore." Severus watched the Malfoy heir carefully, not knowing the best course of action. Ultimately, he didn't say a word. It was not imperative that he lie to Draco now, so he didn't deny the accusation. "That's why I trust you so much. But," Draco continued, "what right do you have to tell me to ignore my feelings, my beliefs, when you will risk your life to save yours like some Gryffindor?"

"The young think they know everything," his sorrowful professor finally answered, "but you don't know what I have been through to reach this loathsome existence. I am telling you for your own sake; be a Slytherin, Draco. Preserve your own life."

"That's what I'm doing," the blond argued stubbornly. "You tell me I'd be throwing my life away to brew this potion, but I 'd be throwing it away not to. Don't you see that? I'd be miserable. And I won't take the Dark Mark! I just won't! This potion is my only chance. We'd be strong enough with the bond to resist the Dark Lord, to protect each other. I promise you, Sev, it _won't_ kill me. I love him, and I know that he loves me too."

"Perhaps that is true if you know the dangers of the potion and are still so willing, and eager, to take it – if you are willing to give up the fortunes and the prestige of the Malfoy line," the Potions Master finally conceded with a sigh. "But I cannot condone this. If you openly defy the Death Eaters, they will make you a target. Who is this boy, Draco? Who are you so willing to risk your life for?" Draco smiled a sickeningly dreamy smile for the conniving young Slytherin before smirking confidently at his professor.

"Well, you should know. I imagine he's the only other student to do his essay on the Love Binding Potion."

Suddenly, Snape was on him like a wolf devouring a frightened rabbit (and Draco looked every bit the frightened rabbit). The Slytherin tried desperately to lean back as far into his creaky old chair as possible to escape the raging, piercing hot glare and towering height before him, but it was no use; Snape's cold, pale hand shot out, wrapping harshly around Draco's wrist and pulled him to his feet before shoving him back hard. His tightfisted hand still held fast to the boy's arm, and his grip tightened painfully until the young Malfoy couldn't help but scream out in agony.

"Stop, Severus! You're hurting me," he pleaded, but the infuriated, shadowed man before him didn't seem to hear his cries.

"Not him! Not _him_! Anyone but _him!_" Snape was yelling maniacally over and over again, willing it not to be true. It couldn't be true! "Has he put a curse on you? Some sort of love spell? Is that it?"

"What? No! Severus, stop!" But Severus didn't stop. Instead, he yanked the boy closer to him once more and looked him plainly in the eye. Draco was shaking, and his eyes were wide with fright, but there was no sign of being bespelled anywhere in them.

"Then is this some kind of farce?" He demanded desperately of his student. "I can tell you now, Draco, I don't find it humorous."

"No, I told you. I love him. I wouldn't lie about something like that," and Severus knew that to be true as he finally released the trembling boy's arm.

"How could this have happened? You and _him_? It's unimaginable!" The poor man looked ready to faint. Draco, misunderstanding the reason for his teacher's upset, tried pitifully to diffuse the situation.

"I don't know. I just do. I know you're royally pissed off right now, Sev, but look…I already know he's in Gryffindor and he's not a pureblood. I figured that much out. I know it's weird for me to say this, but that just doesn't matter to me."

"You've already figured that much out?" Snape blubbered with confusion. What the hell was this kid talking about? Oh… Suddenly, realization dawned on him. "You don't know who he is," he stated rather than asked. "How is that possible?"

"Well…we've kind of been passing notes…anonymously. He was gay and I was gay, and at first I just needed someone to talk to about it. But then…it just hit me. I knew," the Slytherin admitted quietly. "But I don't care who he is. I wouldn't care…I wouldn't care if he was the Weasel!" Snape nearly snorted at the remark, not that he'd ever admit that.

"It is easy to say that when you already know he is not. You said yourself that he is not of pure blood. I can tell you now, Draco, that potion will never work for you. The two of you…you are confused. You do not love _him_. Trust me on that," Snape had calmed down by now and seemed to look at Draco with remorse and pity. The Slytherin prince didn't like being pitied, though. What reason did Snape have to feel sorry for him? Didn't he think Draco knew what he felt?

"Yes, I do," Draco stated coldly as his grey eyes narrowed at the professor and his delicate hands balled into tight contemptuous fists. He too, dared Snape to test him.

"You do not," Snape insisted persistently. "You must know, Draco. You must know who he is…"

"No!" the blond interrupted quickly. "Not like this. Not from you. I want to hear it from him."

"Very well then," Snape finally grumbled after a long consideration, not wanting to lose the boy for good. "You are dismissed, Mr. Malfoy." And Draco ran from the room as quickly as his legs could take him before Snape could change his mind.

However, Severus was not quite ready to let this go. So Draco thought he was in love with the Potter brat? A ridiculous notion. Those two had been at each other's throats since their first year. They couldn't be in the same room as each other without starting some reckless dual and destroying everything around them. They despised each other. Draco would come to see that truth, and Severus would be the one to guide him to the light.

* * *

Three days. That's how long it took for the idea to fall into Severus's lap. But once it did, he clung to it and twisted it around in his cold, calculating mind until he could stand it no longer. Draco would see now. Severus would save him.

As he entered his classroom he noticed Draco Malfoy once again sitting at the very back, eyes downcast and refusing to look directly at him. It had been like that ever since the revelation of the Slytherin's sexuality three nights prior. Draco had told him something deeply personal, and he knew the boy was cursing himself for it. He'd never meant to divulge such a deep secret to anyone, let alone a Death Eater. Clearly, Draco understood that Severus would keep his secret. After all, Draco knew his, and that was undeniably much worse. But now the boy refused to acknowledge him. He was quiet, withdrawn, and worried beyond measure. Snape understood that too. The boy looked up to him as a mentor and father figure, and he had never once said that he could accept this part of Draco as well. He had never said he just wanted him to be safe, but that he thought no less of him. He had only told him to tell nobody and hide it at all cost. He implied that he should be ashamed. He knew; Draco felt abandoned and unwanted, rejected. Yet, Snape had no choice. It was for his own good and the downtrodden boy would come to realize that one day.

Without further ado, the Potions Master announced the start of a new class project among a bustle of moans and groans. It was to be done in pairs of his choosing. One Slytherin and one Gryffindor to "booster inter-house relations per Headmaster Dumbledore's request."

"Weasley and Nott, Granger and Parkinson, Longbottom and Zabini, Potter and Malfoy…" he called out with a wicked glint in his eyes. When he finished pairing off the students, he assigned each group a set of potions to study. They were to choose one to brew by the end of the period.

"Well, isn't it my lucky day," Draco drawled as Potter plunked down gracelessly in the seat next to him.

"Just shut it, Malfoy," Potter spat. "I'm not exactly thrilled about this either."

"_I'm _the one that has to work with a cheater! You should have been expelled, Potty. I can't believe you can act so high and mighty all the time, and then try to get away with cheating on your essay. Professor Snape isn't stupid, you know." The Slytherin smirked triumphantly at the fuming, dark-haired boy as he spoke. He had Potter right where he wanted him, and another outburst in class would have the boy ejected from the room and Draco could continue to sulk in peace.

"I didn't cheat! Snape has it in for me! That's why he always pairs me with you!"

"That is enough," the billowy professor warned sharply as he towered over the duo. Much to Draco's chagrin, though, he did not dismiss Scarhead from the class. "Get started before I am forced to fail you both. I suggest you take some notes on the potions you are considering." Then he reached his bony hand over and flipped open the book in front of Harry Potter.

"Fine," the boy muttered harshly as he set to work evaluating the various potions. Half an hour later and the two still had yet to choose one. They simply couldn't stop arguing. Whenever Draco made a suggestion, Potter vetoed it; whenever Potter selected one, Draco was sure to stomp all over the idea just to spite the cocky Boy-Who-Lived.

"This is stupid, Malfoy!" Potter complained to him in annoyed frustration. "Everyone else has started already! Just pick one. I don't care anymore!"

"Fine," the Slytherin sneered victoriously. "Let me see the notes." Draco then snatched the paper from his unwanted partner and eyed the contents of the page critically. "Honestly, Potter," he drawled, "Can't you even write legibly? This handwriting is just abysmal. It's absolutely…" _familiar._ It finally dawned on the pompous, blond boy just where he'd seen this writing before. His disbelieving silver eyes, now strung with wet tears, darted up to meet Severus's. The man had been watching him the entire time, and now his face held a snide smile as deep black eyes bore into his soul. It had been Harry Potter all along.

Draco couldn't move; his entire world was shattering before him, the perfect reflection of friendship and love he'd imagined for himself now nothing but a useless, broken mirror filled with regret. How could he have been so utterly stupid? How could he have trusted anyone without knowing a name? Now he was looking into the confused face of Harry bloody Potter, Golden Boy and damned savior of the wizarding world. If Draco was going to be viciously murdered before, it was going to be thousands of times more brutal now.

Of course it would be Potter! Draco was never the fortunate one. He felt sick – so, so sick.

Potter. Potter. Potter. The name was beats of a drum pounding loudly in his head with no respite.

This farce wasn't love, he told himself; it was ignorance. Embarrassing and deadly ignorance! No wonder Severus had been so upset with him!

"What's wrong with you, Malfoy?" Potter was asking him, actually managing to look concerned. Draco could only imagine what he looked like right now – ivory pallor whiter than Snape's and mouth agape in Weasley-like horror.

"I-I-I…" he began to stammer uncontrollably, "P-Potter, you're…I'm…we're…" He didn't know what he wanted to say, but one thing was bloody well certain: he couldn't out himself to damn Potter! And now the rest of the class was watching him intently too. "I have to go," he finally got out before grabbing his belongings and slowly, depressingly, painfully walking out of the room. He couldn't look at Potter. He couldn't look at Snape. He didn't think he'd ever be able to look at himself again.

An hour later Snape found him huddled in the corner in the dungeons looking like someone had died. Perhaps in his mind, someone had.

"You just had to do it, didn't you?" Draco finally asked in a shaking, defeated voice. He sounded so broken – nothing like the confident, drawling Malfoy boy Severus had come to know.

"Do you see now, Draco, why I had no choice?" the man asked flatly, too accustomed to hiding his own emotions to stop now – even for Draco Malfoy.

"Yes," was all the boy could say.

"And are you still going to insist that you are _in love _with _Potter_?" He couldn't help the sneer that came to his lips at the mention of the little wretch's name.

"No, I'm not."

And it was done.


	10. Hullo, Harry

**Chapter 10: Hullo, Harry**

"Well, you're in a rather good mood for someone who's failing Advanced Potions," Hermione was saying over a plateful of treacle tart in the Great Hall.

Harry's behavior had been odd at best lately, and she wanted to know why. Over the course of the year he seemed to go from melancholy, to content, to unexplainably happy, to downright miserable, and then back to unexplainably happy. It was like watching a rollercoaster from the ground; she could see all the loop-de-loops, but without being on it herself, she couldn't see the tiny turns that led to them. Harry had a right to his secrets, but she worried nonetheless.

"Yeah, mate, it's weird," Ron spluttered through his mouthful of sweet dessert. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were seeing someone."

Harry couldn't keep himself from blushing; the mere thought of his Slytherin tended to do that to him. However, his friends noticed and stopped their meals at once.

"You are!" the redhead beamed brightly.

"Ron…I…" Harry didn't know if he should deny it or not. He certainly didn't want to give too much away, but his friends would know if he was lying. Suddenly, however, Ron's face fell.

"But it's not Ginny?" he asked sadly.

"It's not Ginny," Harry confirmed quietly, looking away from his two best friends. He desperately needed to end this line of questioning before…

"Who is she, Harry?"

…that happened.

It was Hermione who'd asked the question, and she was looking at him with genuine curiosity sparkling in her warm, brown eyes. Ron, too, was watching him expectantly. Perhaps he was finally accepting that Harry and Ginny just weren't meant to be.

"I-I'm just not ready to say yet. I don't want to jinx it," Harry attempted to explain to the two sets of watchful eyes. He hoped it would be enough, but he doubted it.

"But we're your best mates," Ron argued, somewhat hurt by his best friend's secrecy.

"Oh, Ronald," Hermione cut in to Harry's rescue. "Don't push him. I'm sure he'll tell us all about it when he's ready to."

Harry gave her a thankful look before assuring the two, "Of course. You'll be the first to know. I promise."

"Okay, then," the redhead finally conceded. Patience may not have been a natural virtue of his, but he could give his friend the benefit of the doubt. He just hoped he'd be offered the chance to find out soon – and that his little sister wouldn't be hurt. "Just don't tell Ginny about this yet. I don't think she's ready for it."

"Sure thing."

After dinner, Harry once again returned to the library. Everything seemed to be going so well, and even with Snape threatening to fail him out of Advanced Potions he couldn't help but feel at peace. He and his Slytherin would show Snape a thing or two at the end of the year when they brewed the Love Binding Potion perfectly. Perhaps Snape would be furious and fail him anyway, but he would still always have his Slytherin no matter what life threw his way.

Yet, the odd thing was that Harry had not received a letter from his Slytherin boyfriend in several days. It was strange indeed considering he usually received two or three letters a day from the other boy. Had something happened? Had the other boy panicked and changed his mind? Was he just busy? Did Snape fail him too and now he was angry with Harry? Harry had been trying to maintain his hope that the other boy really was just busy, but once again, today there was no letter.

"Where are you?" the Gryffindor wondered aloud.

Finally, Harry decided it was time to return to his common room. He could always check again tomorrow. He left what seemed to be the billionth note asking the other boy to let him know that he was all right – to just say something, anything. He cursed himself for sounding so desperate and clingy, but his hope was finally escaping him.

As Harry was walking back to the Gryffindor rooms he was surprised by a quick yank that pulled the unsuspecting boy harshly into an empty classroom. Pale, slender hands shoved him unceremoniously against the unforgiving, stone wall. His vision blurred for just a moment as his head whipped backward and hit said wall hard.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" he demanded when his vision finally cleared and the infuriated face of the blond boy materialized before him.

"Do you have any idea what you've done, Potter?" the Slytherin screamed hysterically into his face.

_He's gone completely nutters_, Harry considered. But the Slytherin wasn't done yet.

"You've ruined my life, Potter! You've ruined…EVERYTHING!"

"What the hell are you on about now, Malfoy?"

"You, Potter! Why can't you just leave me alone! Stay out of my life! Out of my head!" Draco heaved in a few much needed breaths of air before looking at Harry one last time and darting from the room as if his robes had suddenly caught fire.

_What was that?_

* * *

He couldn't be in love with Harry Potter. Draco knew that. After all of the animosity – all of the infuriating tension, the duals, the arguments, and the fights – Draco had nothing left to give to Harry Potter. It was a sickening thought: _him_ drooling all over Potter and adoring that stupid little scar and annoying boyish grin like most of the ranks of Hogwarts. No, Draco couldn't do that!

Besides, a pureblood doing what they had planned would be shocking enough; there would already be too much publicity for Draco's liking. But imagine coming out hand in hand with Golden Boy Potter! He would never live that down, and there was no telling what the Dark Lord would have in store for him then. This situation had multiplied exponentially in danger with this tidbit of information. How could he be so stupid? How could Potter be so stupid! Scarhead was giving his boyfriend a death sentence with his little scheme and didn't even realize it. Well, good thing said boyfriend was definitely not Draco Malfoy. Nope. Why, Draco hated Potter! Hated him! Despised him! Loathed him! Detested him! Abhorred him! Adored hi…The very idea was downright repulsive.

_Potter…Potter…Potter_, the drum in his head never ceased its beat.

"Gah!" Draco screamed as he fisted his hands into his neatly styled blond hair. Suddenly it wasn't so neat anymore. He unfolded the note once more. He should throw it away…but somehow he couldn't bring himself to do that.

**"Dear Slippery Slytherin,**

**Where have you gone? Has something happened? Did you change your mind? Please tell me something! It's been over a week. If you need more time, I can respect that. I know this has all been so fast. Just please don't just disappear.**

**Love,**

**Eagerly Awaiting"**

Honestly, though, what was Draco supposed to do? He looked at the note and couldn't help but feel a pang in his heart; he wanted so desperately to believe that it wasn't Harry Potter who had written it. But it was.

**"Don't write to me anymore! Forget me! Forget all of this! We're done!"**

Draco scribbled the note furiously and shoved it into the binding book before ferociously slamming the book closed. He breathed a long sigh, stared pensively ahead for a couple of minutes, flipped the book open, and ripped up the note.

* * *

Classes were done and Harry, Hermione, and Ron were meandering down the hall looking for something to occupy their afternoon. It was Friday and the happy release of the weekend was beckoning the trio to the outdoors. Perhaps they would give Hagrid a visit and see what new spectacular beasts he had unearthed and brought home, or perhaps they fancied a nice fly about the grounds before the first chills of winter dampened their spirits. Talking feverishly about Quidditch and girls, Ron eventually took it upon himself to solve the mystery of Harry's secret relationship.

"And you're positive it isn't Ginny?"

"It's not Ginny, Ron."

"Well, is she in our year?"

"Yes, Ron."

"Is she in our house?"

"No, Ron."

"Oh, is it another Ravenclaw, then?"

The redhead was so engaged in questioning his best mate that he never heard the other trio approaching.

"Potter and a girl?" Malfoy's sneering and unwelcome voice cut in from behind the group. He was flanked on either side by Crabbe and Goyle, the two fools snickering violently at what their leader had said. "Now _that_ I find to be highly unlikely."

"What would you know about it, Ferret?" Ron sneered right back at the git, not noticing that Harry had paled considerably beside him.

"Quite a bit more than you do, I'd imagine," the evil blond snake gloated with a sly grin. "In fact, I'd say it would be far more likely he'd be shagging you, Weasel."

"Just what are you insinuating, Malfoy?" Hermione jumped in.

"Why don't we ask Potter?" Malfoy snickered at the tense trio. Ron looked about ready to pummel him, Hermione braced herself for an attack, and Harry just looked sick. Was Malfoy saying what he thought he was? Did Malfoy know something?

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Harry finally shouted before shoving the other boy back.

Suddenly, Malfoy leaped out at him, punching him in the face and knocking him to the ground. Something about this muggle fighting was simply addictive; the Slytherin had to admit it was so much more of an emotional release than the traditional wizard's dual. Then, Ron grabbed the slender, blond boy and wrenched him off of his friend. He threw him hard against the wall, approaching swiftly with eyes of fire, a true complement to his trademark hair.

Crabbe and Goyle were useless, of course, but Hermione couldn't bear the sight of her boyfriend destroying the pathetic Slytherin (even if he deserved it). After all, in hand-to-hand combat Ron had a considerable advantage; he was much bigger and stronger than the other boy. So the gentle witch mercifully put a calming hand on her boyfriend's elbow and tugged him back just enough to garner his attention. Ron turned to her then and nodded his understanding at the pleading look in her deep brown eyes.

"Just get lost, Malfoy. Before we all get detention for the rest of term," he warned the felled Slytherin. By now, Crabbe and Goyle had come to their leader's aid and were pulling him unceremoniously down the blessedly empty halls with whispers of "Come, Draco."

"Malfoy," said Harry as he finally came back to his senses and pushed himself up from the ground, "about what you were saying before…"

"Oh right," the blond turned and smirked from between his two imbeciles who were still shoving him down the hall (Since the Weasel seemed to have given up, he'd concluded he was the victor in this particular fight). "What girl is that desperate?" And then he turned the corner and was gone.

Harry sighed with relief at Malfoy's seeming lack of any real knowledge into his personal life. He and his two friends continued on their way; all the while Ron chastised his mate for not putting up a proper fight. But Harry could only wonder…what had set Malfoy off like that?

* * *

He'd had the fool Potter right where he'd wanted him, but in the end he had done nothing. What was wrong with him? Draco could have easily lied and said he'd known it was Potter all along. He could have said it was all a ruse, a farce, to get the Golden Dork's secrets. Oh, and what he had discovered! Why, it could have been in the Daily Prophet by morning! Crabbe and Goyle would have delighted in spreading the rumors, and he had so many sappy little love letters to share with the papers that Potter never could have denied it. But he hadn't done it. Almost, but no. He backed out at the last second for reasons he couldn't quite fathom.

Draco told himself it was because it would have done no good. Certainly it would have been a shock, but no doubt the whole of Hogwarts minus the Slytherins would have come to their savior's support. Why wouldn't they? They loved Potter – worshipped Potter. It was so disgusting! At least Draco had the sense to hate the buffoon.

And he did.

He did.

He didn't…

Maybe he never really did. Maybe this _thing _had always been there buried beneath the surface. But now he knew Potter. He really, _really,_ knew him. And now it could remain buried no longer; he loved Harry Potter. Yet, he couldn't help all of that anger threatening to boil to the surface as well. It was that same anger that made him jump Potter in the corridor, that made him want to hurt him, and that made him want to say the things that he had and spill the secrets he'd almost spilled.

Finally, it hit Draco with the force of a thousand blasting spells. The problem wasn't that he couldn't love Harry Potter. If he was honest with himself, somewhere among those damned letters he had fallen hard for the other boy. No, the problem was that he couldn't fathom how Harry Potter could love _him_. Therefore, every time Potter looked at him with that same mistrustful, loathing look he always saved exclusively for _Draco Malfoy_, it cut him to the core.

Maybe – just maybe – it wasn't too late to fix that, though.

Mere minutes later, the Slytherin found himself once more in the library with quill in hand.

**"Dear Mr. Waiting,**

**I know it has been a while, and I'm sorry. There were some things I needed to think about alone. I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't. I just couldn't. I think I have finally managed to figure them out now. I can assure you, though, that I haven't changed my mind about us. I have never been more certain of anything. **

**I want to meet you. I really think it's time. Please let me know what you decide. **

**Sincerely,**

**Your Slytherin"**

* * *

Harry was nervous and excited as he obsessed over the coming meeting. He should have known that his Slytherin would never betray him. In actuality, he supposed he had always known it. It was something he could feel. It was strange to him to trust a Slytherin so completely, but his bond to his boyfriend was deeper than any house ties. They had shared secrets, shared emotions, and shared a connection that was special beyond description. Somehow, trusting this Slytherin was as natural as breathing. It amused Harry when he really thought about it; from the minute he had confirmed the other boy's identity as a Slytherin it had never fully struck him – never been important. It still wasn't important to him, but he knew his housemates were unlikely to agree. He was sure some of them would protest more that he was dating a Slytherin than that he was dating another bloke. No matter, though.

The day was finally upon him like the gentle glow of the sun after a long, cold night. It was Wednesday evening and all other Hogwarts students were in the Great Hall sharing idle chatter over the meals the house elves had prepared, none the wiser about the secret rendezvous about to take place. All house rivalries had been forgotten and swept away this night for these two students. Here it finally was. The Gryffindor and the Slytherin were to meet in private for the first time under the shade of the largest tree by the lake.

So many questions raced through the young wizard's mind. How would the other boy react to him being Harry Potter? Would he like him when he met him? Who was this Slytherin? Would Harry be completely surprised or would it seem obvious once he finally met him? What should he say? Should he kiss him? Was it too soon?

Harry felt his insides knotting up at the relentless doubts and questions until he could take it no longer. He very nearly wanted to slap himself in the face to see if it worked like it did in the movies. He wondered if his Slytherin was as nervous as he was.

Harry was ten minutes early. He stood anxiously under the tall tree, branches like fingers entwining themselves in the cool breeze and casting shadows that seemed to reach out longingly for the restless lake. Harry watched that lake as he waited – mesmerized by the life, the movement. It was the perfect place.

Suddenly he felt a chill in the air and the entirety of his body was wracked with sudden shivers as he feebly attempted to pull his robes tighter against his trembling shoulders. That's when he felt the arms wrap around his waist and he was pulled securely into a warm body. He could have stood there forever in the firm, desperate hold of those slender, pale, and perfectly unblemished arms. He could feel warm breaths caress his chilled ears as the other boy's face lingered dangerously close to them for just a moment before resting in the crook of his neck and inhaling Harry's scent. For just a moment, Harry had thought the other boy was going to whisper something into his ear, but it never came.

Harry inhaled deeply himself, afraid to move, afraid to break the spell of this one perfect moment. Carefully, he brought his hands to rest on those beautiful limbs that were so lovingly enwrapping him before running his slightly callused fingertips softly up and down the delicate, ivory skin.

"I'm so glad you're finally here," the Boy-Who-Lived finally broke the tentative silence, his voice sounding almost too loud in the serenity of this scene in which he'd so clumsily found himself inserted. "I just…" Harry continued as his hands slid down that perfect arm, intertwining with long graceful fingers, and running over the sterling finish of the Malfoy family ring.

Wait, that didn't seem right. Malfoy family ring?

Abruptly, his grip tightened around that bony little hand and he wrenched those sickly pale arms from his body. He spun around sharply only to come face to face with the gel-slicked blond tresses and calculating silver gaze of his nemesis: Draco Malfoy.

"Malfoy!" Harry screamed. "What are you doing here? Just…get out of here! I don't have time for you right now! I'm waiting for someone!"

"I know," the Slytherin ventured in a careful, trembling voice. "You're waiting for me."

And Harry's eyes went as wide and as deep as the lake itself.


	11. The Lion and His Snake

**Chapter 11: The Lion and His Snake**

The cool breeze still danced through the dry branches of the large, twisted tree before whistling over the lake like sailing pixies. The last remnants of daylight still clung to the horizon and spread glorious burnt orange and violet rays of sun over the grounds like a painting in a museum. The vibrant green grass still held its emerald hue, fighting off the frost for this one more beautiful day. It was a scene from a movie, but Harry saw none of it.

It hurt to even breathe as he realized just what was going on here. He eyed the Malfoy boy critically before his face contorted in a desperate and turbulent fury.

"You've done something to him, haven't you?" Harry accused vehemently. "You found out about us and you just had to ruin it! If you've hurt him…"

"What the fuck, Potter?" the shocked Slytherin exclaimed at once. "I didn't do anything to anybody!"

"Then where is he?" the upset teenager demanded angrily, the beginnings of tears threatening his eyes as he fought to restrain them.

"Right here!"

"That's a laugh, Malfoy! You _aren't_ him!" Harry insisted. The universe could never be that cruel. Malfoy never would have been able to write letters like that, Harry knew. The blond boy lacked the raw emotion, the sentimentality, the very kindness it required. Malfoy was too cold, too hateful, too proud, and too…Malfoy! Besides, if he really was gay, he would never admit to it – not to anyone!

"I swear to you, Potter," the blond pleaded in a voice that actually sounded sincere, "I'm not having you on. I wrote those letters! I am him…me."

Harry looked into those pleading eyes then, and as much as he wanted to scream and shout that it was just impossible, he could deny it no longer. He saw the honesty reflected in those silver orbs, and somehow he just knew. It was all there – the fear of rejection, the desperate need for love he'd associated with his Slytherin for so long. This was him. This was his Slytherin. This was Draco Malfoy.

"You really are, aren't you?" Harry sighed dejectedly as his rage was slowly replaced with some other unnamable emotion. "But then…" he stammered, "this has to be some sort of joke? All of those personal things you wrote…"

"I meant them, Potter. I meant every word."

"But you never said you were Malfoy!" That was what it all came down to in the end. Harry was a naïve fool for not seeing it before! It just seemed so obvious now! Oh, the strain of being a pureblood! And all the talk about hexing! All of the threats, the temper tantrums, the selfish sensitivity, and the snarky, sarcastic comments! They all pointed directly at Malfoy! But Harry hadn't seen that because there had been something else there too – something kind, funny, passionate, loving, and sincere. He never would have associated those things with Malfoy, but they were all there now in those grey eyes. Unfortunately, all the rest was there too.

"I couldn't say that in a letter, you dolt."

"Malfoy…" the dark haired boy trailed off thoughtfully. Merlin, but Harry didn't know what to do now. But he did know what he couldn't do. "I just can't. I can't do this."

Then he started to walk away, trying his very best not to look at the hurt filled expression on Draco Malfoy's finally unstony face.

Suddenly, Harry felt a gentle hand clasp his and effectively keep him from fleeing. He had always expected Malfoy's touch to feel as cold as the boy usually looked, so he was surprised at the warmth. There was something almost comforting in that soft touch. He turned around slowly and looked Draco in the eye once more. Harry felt none of the usual animosity, but perhaps only because he couldn't help but pity the other boy in this moment. Malfoy was now fully committed to something Harry just couldn't see working out.

"I love you, Potter. I meant that too," Malfoy tried to explain, but Harry had made his decision.

"Look, Malfoy, this isn't going to work out. We didn't know who were talking to. It was a misunderstanding, a mistake. We don't _love _each other. Aren't you even a little upset about this? I mean, I can't even think about this right now. It's just too much of a surprise. We're enemies. Have been since first year." Harry tried to get the other boy to understand, to just please stop looking at him like that. "I don't know how you can be so calm. If I didn't know any better, I'd almost think you knew…" then Harry's green eyes nearly bulged out of his head and went crashing through his beaten glasses. "Because you did know!"

Harry's accusation was confirmed by the guilty look creeping over his companion's features, and now he was outright livid. Malfoy had known! Realizing that the lying prat was still holding his hand, Harry yanked his own hand from the boy's grasp as if it had been burned.

"How long?" Harry demanded angrily.

Draco said nothing.

"How long?" Harry's teeth were clenched and his jaw tight as he demanded an answer for the second time.

Draco looked like he was going to be sick, but yet again said nothing.

"I asked you how long!" the Golden Boy finally snapped.

"About two weeks," the Slytherin eventually admitted.

"Two weeks! Two weeks! You mean two weeks ago when you just suddenly blew me off with no excuse? Two weeks ago when you dragged me into an empty classroom, threw me against a _stone _wall, and then screamed at me for ruining _your _life? And then last week when you practically outed me in front of Ron and Hermione and those two barbaric thugs of yours? Oh! And let's not forget punching me in the bloody face! Is that about the right timeframe?" Harry couldn't restrain himself any longer. Draco bloody Malfoy!

"Well, it was a bit unexpected!" Draco explained shrilly. "I was confused! I didn't know what to do. But then I thought about it, and I decided it doesn't matter."

"_You_ decided?!" Harry spat. "It isn't for you to decide! I have a say in this thing too, and maybe it matters to me. Especially when the minute you find out who I am you decide to act like a bloody prat! _That _was the decision you made! And…Oh, Merlin…" Harry grumbled as the full implications struck him like a bolt of lightning. "You were going to tell everyone. That's what that was about in the hall with Crabbe and Goyle and Ron and Hermione. You bloody hypocrite! You're gay too, but you were going to use it against me! Like I should be ashamed of it! You coward! How could you use _that _against me? If anything, I would expect you to understand about that!"

"I'm sorry, Potter! I panicked!"

"And how exactly did you find out?" Harry cut in erratically. Malfoy watched him hesitantly before answering.

"Professor Snape informed me…"

"Snape! Snape knows about this?" the fuming boy interrupted shrilly. Harry was as pale as a ghost, an apparition created from heart failure and stress at the mere age of 16. "Snape knows I'm gay? Before anyone else?" he begged for clarification.

"Essentially…" Malfoy admitted defensively.

"Oh, God!" Harry couldn't help but invoke a muggle deity at a situation as dire as this. Old habit and all.

"Potter, it isn't that bad. He's not going to tell anyone."

But Harry was done listening. Instead, he swung back his fist and punched that pompous, self-righteous git square in the jaw just like he deserved.

"I hate you, Malfoy!" And then he stormed off, leaving Draco curled into himself on his knees, all alone – a big, black smudge on a once perfect painting.

* * *

His jaw really freaking hurt! But he didn't want to heal it. He figured he deserved the pain and he ought to feel it. Maybe Potter had a point. He gingerly fingered the bruise on his face before opening the binding book and staring resolutely inside. Nothing. But there wouldn't be, would there? Potter had said all that he had wanted to say. Still, it was weird to see the book empty for a change; he'd been spoiled for months with Potter's letters. He felt sick to think that for well over a week Potter had come hopefully to this very spot and each day felt the disappointment of finding the book just as empty as he now found it. Yes, Draco definitely deserved the pain.

However, Draco had yet to say everything _he _needed to say, so he composed a letter he figured Potter may never read anyway.

**"Dear Gryffindor,**

**I don't know if you'll read this; you made your feelings pretty clear by the lake. I know I didn't handle the situation in the best way, but what would you have done? At least I didn't accuse you of being a liar and a kidnapper! Do you really think you're so far above everyone else, Golden Dork?!**

**Gah!**

**Look…I'm sorry okay. When I found out it was you it nearly destroyed me. You hate me, right? Everything just went to shit. How could I be in love with you when you hated me? But I can't help it. **

**Maybe I'm glad it's you. You've always brought out more emotion in me than anyone else. That's got to mean something, doesn't it? We've hated each other so much without even a good reason. Maybe this was the reason.**

**I am so angry at you right now for making me apologize! For making me feel this damn vulnerable! I'm not supposed to be this pathetic! Especially not in front of you.**

**But you have to know…even after I found out, I still would have gone through with that potion with you. I still would; even now. But I guess it's too late for that, isn't it? **

**I hate you for not loving me and I hate me for not hating you!**

**So goodbye, I guess,**

**Slytherin"**

There was nothing left to say but goodbye. The pain in his jaw suddenly didn't seem so bad anymore, but the pain in his chest felt fatal.

* * *

Harry just wanted to be alone. One would think that would be fairly easy to accomplish in a massive castle. Apparently, not when that castle was a school filled with students. Dinner had let out and now the students of Hogwarts bustled through the halls, gathered in the common rooms, and filled the large castle with laughter and small talk.

"Hi, mate!" Ron greeted the Boy-Who-Lived as he spotted him entering the castle. "We missed you at dinner, Harry. Did something happen?"

Harry didn't trust himself to speak just yet, and he certainly didn't know what to say even if he could find his voice. Fortunately, Hermione provided it for him.

"Harry, are you okay? You don't look well," she exclaimed worriedly as she placed the back of her palm gently on his pale, sweaty face. Unfortunately, the gentle touch reminded him of Malfoy reaching for him at the lake and he pulled away quickly before he realized what he was doing.

"Blimey, mate!" Ron choked out as he fully took in the pitiful sight of his best friend. "She's right! You look bloody awful!"

"Ron!" Hermione warned with a hard smack that did little good.

"Did Malfoy do something to you? He wasn't in the Great Hall tonight either," the redhead was eager to inform.

"What! No!" Harry suddenly found his long lost voice, and the last thing he wanted to talk about was Draco Malfoy. "I haven't seen him. I think I'm just coming down with something."

"Harry, maybe you should go to the hospital wing. Just in case," Hermione recommended with concern to the boy who certainly did look downright awful.

"Yeah, I think so. I'll meet up with you later, yeah?"

But Harry did not go to the hospital wing. Instead, he went to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He figured no one in their right mind would want to be there, and after scrubbing it by hand for a month in Snape's detention he had come to feel a certain comfortableness in its solitude. Myrtle, thank Merlin, was nowhere in sight.

Sinking down gracelessly in the corner near the sinks, Harry allowed himself to rest his face in his knees and just cry. It felt so good to just let it out…until a toilet flushed and Ginny Weasley stepped out of the stall right in front of him. He looked up quickly, wiping the tears from his red blotched face trying to make it look like nothing out of the ordinary was going on.

"Ginny," he stammered as the red haired girl stared at him in confusion. "What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

"You're in the girl's loo, Harry," she answered slowly.

"Oh…right."

"Why are you in the girl's loo, Harry?"

"I just needed to be alone for a while," the boy admitted quietly.

"The boys don't have a loo?" she quirked her brow comically, and despite himself Harry couldn't help but smile just a little. "So are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"I can't," he muttered softly, but the Gryffindor girl was not so easily put off. She sat down across from him and placed a comforting hand on his knee.

"Sure, you can. You look like you need to tell someone," she said as she offered him a tiny smile. He sighed deeply before finally meeting her eyes. Maybe she was right.

"Ginny, I don't know how to say this. I haven't really been telling anyone. I don't know that I'm ready," he offered nervously.

"Please, Harry. Something's been going on with you all year. I want to help you. Please tell me," she begged.

"It's just…" he desperately needed someone to talk to, and now that he'd lost Malfoy…well, he didn't have much else to lose. "Ginny, I'm gay."

She looked at him for a minute before breaking out in giggles.

"Really, Harry, what is it?" she asked.

"Gin! This is serious!" he told her as he tried to convey his meaning with his eyes. All at once, she got it.

"Oh…"

"Yeah…oh."

"So that's why…" she muttered quietly, "that's why you haven't been interested in me?"

"Well, yeah. I guess so," Harry said. "But, Ginny, that's not the worst part…"

"Wait, Harry," she cut him off quickly. Looking at him sharply she said, "The worst part? Harry, this isn't a bad thing. You have to know that. There isn't anything wrong with being different." Harry just rolled his eyes at her naivete. He was Harry Potter, the Chosen One (i.e. everything he did was "a bad thing").

"Tell that to Rita Skeeter when she finds out about this. Everything is going to change. People are going to treat me differently," he tried to make her understand.

"Maybe some people, Harry," she agreed, "but not the people who care about you most. I'm not going to treat you any differently. And I know Hermione won't. And Professor Lupin. Ron might need a little time for adjustment, but he'll get over it too." Then a thought sparked in her mind and her eyes lit up with excitement. "Unless you already told them! Do Ron and Hermione know?"

"No, Ginny!" Harry shouted with worry. "And you can't tell them. I don't want it going around just yet."

"I promise I won't. I was just curious," she assured her friend. "So then…am I the only one who knows?" She had to admit that it made her feel rather special that she was the only one he'd trusted with such a big secret.

"Not exactly," he responded hesitantly. Now she really was curious. If not his two best friends, then who would he tell?

"Then who?" she asked what she had been thinking.

"Malfoy…and apparently Snape."

Poor, poor Ginny Weasley. She suddenly looked like her eyes were going to bug out of her head. Of all the possible responses to that question, she wouldn't have expected that one in a million years.

"Malfoy and Snape?" she asked in disbelief once she found the air to speak. "Harry, are you having a laugh at my expense?" She looked hurt, but she needn't be. This disaster was all too true.

"Honestly, Ginny. I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around it too," the famous wizard admitted quite seriously. Ginny's heart clenched for the boy. If Malfoy knew, the rest of the world would know by morning. That must be why Harry was crying alone in the girl's bathroom.

"So that's the worst part," she stated knowingly, but Harry only confused her again as he shook his head.

"No, the worst part," he paused, "is that I think I'm in love with Malfoy."

"Malfoy!" she screamed at him. "Harry, do you know what you're saying? You can't possibly be in love with Malfoy. He's a Death Eater!"

"Not yet, anyway," the Gryffindor boy assured her earnestly. "When he had his arms around me at the lake, his sleeves were rolled up. He didn't have the Dark Mark."

"Malfoy had his arms around you at the lake?" she spluttered in alarm. And she'd thought the first secret was a shocker!

"Well, we've kind of been dating for three months…sort of," Harry confessed with a blush. Well, a lot of that had been flirting and not yet official dating, but close enough. "And I think, in a sense, we kind of got engaged too. More or less."

"So…what you're really telling me is…you've been confunded?" she hoped.

"Nope," he told her, still blushing violently. "I'm not under the Confundus, the Imperius, or any other spell. Unfortunately."

"Okay, then," the redheaded girl stated simply. "Tell me everything."

And he did.

He told her about the Potions assignment, the Love Binding Potion, the haunting letters by the bloke with such beautiful handwriting, the flirting, the planning, his Slytherin's disappearance, Malfoy's strange behavior, and the meeting by the lake.

Ginny had gone completely white the whole time Harry was telling her his story, but by the time he finished she was practically bouncing where she sat.

"Who ever would have thought that Malfoy could be so romantic?" she beamed brightly with a faraway look in her eyes.

"What?" Harry asked loudly, wondering what he had missed in his own story.

"So you were standing in the sunset and he looked you in the eyes and told you that he loves you?" Ginny asked dreamily.

"Well, yes, Gin. But you're missing the point!" Harry contested. "What about all of the other stuff? Malfoy has been tormenting us for years! He's a right git!" Why couldn't she see the bigger picture here? Who cared if Malfoy was "romantic" if he was also…

"Malfoy's an arse," she stated flatly. "But that isn't so surprising. He always has been, hasn't he? Why should that change now? Wasn't he an arse in his letters?"

"Yes, I suppose so. Some of the time," the wizard admitted.

"And you loved him anyway?" she asked sincerely, but she already knew the answer.

"Yes, but he is so much more complex than that. I think I kind of liked that he was an arse because he was so honest about it. It just felt so real. And the way he feels things…it's just so intense. It's just so passionate and raw. It's kind of beautiful, really." He was rambling, and she couldn't stop smiling. "But it could never work out. It's never even occurred to me before that I could even be friends with Malfoy. We're enemies. We wouldn't make any sense together. Besides, he finds out who I am and then he punches me in the face. How is that for romantic?"

"Kind of like you did to him?" the girl questioned her friend slyly.

"But he deserved it!" Harry insisted persistently. He really, really did. But whether or not Harry was ready to admit it to himself, Ginny Weasley was just starting to make him see that maybe he was the one not looking at the big picture.

"Look," she told him, "I can't stand Malfoy. I think he is conceited, selfish, cowardly, and downright annoying. But if you see something in him, and he makes you as happy as you've been all year, then maybe you should give him a chance."

He didn't know when exactly they had stood up, but facing her now, he knew that she was right. There was no guarantee that anything could work with Malfoy, but in all honesty something had been working for three months. What had really changed? Malfoy was Malfoy, by letter or in person.

Harry took the girl in his arms and hugged her tightly before pulling back.

Looking down at her, he smiled warmly and said, "Thanks, Ginny. Thanks for being so supportive." Then he turned around and started walking out of the bathroom.

"Harry?" she called after him. "Where are you going?"

"To find Malfoy," and then he shut the door behind him. Ginny Weasley breathed easily for the first time in a long while.

"Goodbye, Harry," she said to herself as she finally let go of the Boy-Who-Lived.

* * *

Draco was miserable. There was nothing else to say about it. Why did he have to be so stupid? He didn't deserve Potter, he told himself. But then again, why should he be sitting around feeling bad for himself? Was Potter so innocent in all of this? Did Potter never pick a fight with him? Did Potter never utter a cruel comment or stare at him sourly? Did Potter never raise a wand to him? Did Potter never start this whole muggle fighting business to begin with?

What right did Potter have to say he hated Draco?

Potter, Potter, Potter.

Perfect little Potter.

He was just so…here.

There he was, Potter, leaning against the entrance to the Slytherin common room like he owned the place. How did he know where the entrance was? Never mind that! Why was he here?

"Hi," Potter said as Draco stopped cold mere feet in front of him.

"Hi," was all Draco could say.

There simply was nothing else. He wanted to ask him why he was there. He wanted to tell him to get lost, or to stay, or to just say nothing at all and kiss the Gryffindor right out of the boy. But he couldn't speak. He couldn't move. All he had was that one, single "hi."

"So I got your letter," the Gryffindor said, and then he smiled so warmly at the Slytherin that Draco thought he must be dreaming.


	12. When Harry Met Draco

**Chapter 12: When Harry Met Draco**

"So I got your letter," Harry told the Slytherin, but the other boy just continued to stand there without even the slightest twitch of movement and stare at him like he'd grown a second head. Harry was starting to feel a little bit uncomfortable. Why wasn't Malfoy saying anything? Why wasn't he breathing? "Um…" Harry decided to try again, "I was thinking we could go somewhere and talk."

"I…" Malfoy stammered nervously. "Well, I'd invite you in, but the others…" he trailed off.

"Oh, right," Harry remembered as he pulled his invisibility cloak from his bag and with a well-practiced swoop draped it over himself. Malfoy seemed to go even paler as he looked around apprehensively, seeking out the vanishing boy.

"P-Potter?" he asked the now empty void before him.

"What?" Harry's voice asked him from seemingly thin air. "Shall we, then?" he wondered as Malfoy stared blankly at the spot from where the voice had come. A tiny smile of comprehension crossed his face.

"That explains a lot," the blond drawled, confident air finally returning. He turned to look at the dank, dungeon wall in front of him before saying, "Serpens dolosus," and it swung open allowing entry to the Slytherin common room, the Slytherin boy seemingly unperturbed by the fact Harry had heard the password. Although, Harry supposed it would be easy enough for him to change it later. "Right, then. This way, Potter," Malfoy whispered before stepping inside.

Harry followed close behind the other boy, watching his surroundings cautiously. The Slytherin common room was every bit as extravagant as Harry remembered it with its cold, green, leather sofas and the green tinged lighting. Yet, Harry had to wonder why anyone would want to live in a cold, dark dungeon. Nevertheless, the Slytherins took pride in their surroundings, as could be seen by the smug faced boys and girls lulling about the large room. Suddenly, Harry wasn't sure this had been such a good idea after all; the room was crawling with Slytherins who would just love to get the Golden Boy surrounded with no escape. What was keeping Malfoy from handing him over right now? Was this a trap after all?

But Malfoy wouldn't want that anymore, Harry tried to convince himself. Malfoy had said that he loved him. Besides, if he could trust his Slytherin, and Malfoy was his Slytherin, then it would stand to reason that he could trust Malfoy. Wow! That concept was a bit difficult to grasp.

Finally they reached the Slytherin boys' dormitories, Harry still right on his Slytherin's heels. Zabini and Crabbe sat hunched over on one bed looking through a wizarding magazine of some sort, and a few other Slytherin sixth years were preparing their bedclothes or chatting idly amongst themselves. Malfoy looked annoyed.

Clearing his throat to gain their attention he said, "And this is why I need a private room. Everyone out! I need the room for a while."

"For what, Draco?" Zabini questioned in a rather annoyed voice. "It's getting late and we have classes in the morning."

"It's barely nine," Malfoy answered superciliously; "It won't kill you. Now, out!"

The others grumbled, but to Harry's astonishment, they did leave the room. As the last of the Slytherins filed out of the room, Malfoy locked the door behind them and placed a silencing charm around it. Harry pulled the cloak off as the charm was set and dropped his things on the cold floor.

"Won't that seem a little suspicious?" he inquired.

"Not really," Malfoy answered nonchalantly. "I do that all the time. I really do need a private room."

"And they just listen to you?" Harry gaped. It seemed Malfoy was called the prince of Slytherin for a reason, after all.

"They're afraid not to respect me. My father has a lot of pull with their parents," the blond answered him in a bored yet boastful voice.

"You mean with Death Eaters?" Harry asked with a flicker of annoyance in his green eyes, not the least bit impressed. Malfoy eyed him skeptically.

"Yes, with Death Eaters, Potter. Did you come here to talk politics?"

"No, I suppose not," Harry admitted slowly, remnants of mistrust still clinging to him. Malfoy took a step closer to him, his own suspicions visible as well.

"You certainly seem to know your way around, don't you, Potter?" Harry had the decency to blush.

"Well, I've been here before," he confessed as he looked around the room.

"In the Slytherin dungeon?" Harry nodded. "With whom?" Malfoy seemed jealous now. Did he think Harry had some sort of propensity towards Slytherins?

"With you, actually."

"With that?" Malfoy interrogated as he nodded towards the invisibility cloak.

"No, it was polyjuice. Second year. We were trying to get information about the heir of Slytherin. I was…Goyle."

"Can't imagine that was very pleasant," Malfoy muttered with a look of disgust. He was surprisingly calm for having just learned that Harry and his friends had successfully infiltrated his precious Slytherin fortress and manipulated him right under his nose. "And how was I?"

"Well…you certainly did talk a lot," Harry replied with a shrug. Malfoy's eyes went dark at the comment and his lips set in a grim line.

"So, then, you didn't come here to talk politics, but you did come here to insult me."

Harry could have smacked himself. This wasn't how he'd intended this conversation to go. Now he was messing it all up! And Malfoy was so mad that he was…smirking at him?

"And you came all the way to my bedroom for that?" the Slytherin asked coyly. Ah, so that was it, Harry realized. Malfoy was messing with him. Honestly, he shouldn't be so surprised that Draco Malfoy flirted like a cat toying with a captive mouse.

"Actually, I came to apologize. What I said earlier…I didn't mean it. At least, not all of it," the Gryffindor told him honestly, barely able to maintain eye contact.

But looking at Malfoy now, the boy looked much less intimidating than Harry had expected. There was a sharpness to Malfoy, a pointedness, a practiced stoicism and constant air of unreadable elegance that made the Slytherin's emotions difficult to unmask. None of that was there now, though; and Harry couldn't help but feel that he was looking at Malfoy for the first time. Looking at Draco. And he knew that no one in the world had ever been offered such a privilege before, never seen this sort of openness in his features or lack of frigidness in his beautiful, silver eyes. It nearly sent a chill through Harry's nerves.

"I suppose I owe you an apology as well," Draco offered. It was an olive branch that had long since been overlooked and left to decay in prudent, intentional neglect, but it was perfect and beautiful now. Harry felt mesmerized by the sincerity in those words. Cautiously, Harry stepped ever closer to the blond boy, emerald eyes always remaining locked with silver. His hand seemed to move of its own accord as it gently cupped the blond's cheek before sliding past his ear and curling into hair that was too stiff from hair product for his liking. He'd have to do something about that later, for sure.

He wasn't left to his thoughts long, however, as Draco seemed to quiver under the soft touch for just a moment before soft lips were slowly pressed to his own. The kiss was careful and slow, neither boy having quite enough experience to lead it confidently. There was something awkward and hesitant in it, but it was so much more than that. And if in the future (when they'd gotten quite good at it) anyone ever asked Harry or Draco about that first kiss, they'd say that it was the most spectacular kiss in the world – the most amazing kiss of any kiss that had ever been. And perhaps they would have been right, because awkward as it was, it changed the course of the world.

"I…Wow…" Harry mumbled against those soft lips.

"Don't stop now," Draco said as he began kissing the Gryffindor more confidently now.

Harry needn't be told twice; he latched onto the front of Draco's robes and yanked him in closely until he was holding the blond flush up against him. That's when the kiss changed from sweet affection into electric, passionate, vigorous, consuming need. Having finally gotten the mechanics of this kissing thing down, both boys were desperate to express everything they'd ever wanted, _needed_, to say, and now they'd discovered that they didn't need words to say it. Over all of those years, through all of the name calling, the insults, the heated tension, and the inimitable turbulence, there had been this. It was pure passion, longing, desire, and most of all, whether they had seen it or not, love. There was no telling how long these feelings had been there, even before the notes. If only Malfoy hadn't been such a stuck-up prat and if only Harry would have given the other boy a bit more credit…

"Ah…stop…" Draco whimpered as he pushed Harry away and sat down quickly on his bed. The Gryffindor couldn't help but look hurt.

"Sorry. That was too fast," he muttered quickly as he joined him on the bed.

"No, no," the blond reassured quickly. "That was brilliant. Really. It's just…" That's when Harry noticed the blond's hand had come up to rest delicately on his jaw and his face was contorted in pain.

"Let me see that," Harry said as he pulled the Slytherin's hand away from his ivory face and turned Draco's head gently to the side to reveal a deep blue and black bruise forming along his jawline. "I hit you," he remembered.

"Yes, well…you _are _an uncivilized brute like that," Draco teased as he pushed the hand away from his face. Although Draco did like to be coddled at times, now wasn't one of them; he'd much rather go back to the kissing.

"You didn't have it healed?" Harry asked him, confusion evident in his demeanor.

"Kind of figured I might have deserved that one," the Slytherin admitted with a blush.

"'Course you did," Harry told him, "but you're a coward when it comes to pain. I'm surprised you didn't have it healed anyway."

"Know me so well, do you?" Draco shot out, wincing as his swollen jaw moved a little too much.

"I used to think so," Harry replied honestly, "but now I'm not so sure."

"And I suppose you ran off and had yours healed first thing?" the boy asked sourly.

"Oh, no. It wasn't necessary," Harry replied. "Didn't even bruise." Draco just rolled his eyes. That figured.

"Of course not. And I may be a coward, Potter, but I've experienced pain," the blond boy told him earnestly before taking a pause. "I've even been under the Cruciatus before." Harry sucked in a long breath at this admission. That was the last thing he'd expected Draco Malfoy to say. Malfoy was spoiled, pampered, given absolutely everything. Why, Harry had seen the way Lucius Malfoy treated his precious son, his heir. Frivolous was the word that most often came to mind.

"What?" Harry stammered in surprise. "You've been crucioed? When?"

"I was seven," Draco stated flatly, like it was some distant, trivial part of history that had happened to someone else; he seemed completely disconnected from it. In actuality, in Draco's mind, it had happened to someone else; certainly he'd never been the same afterwards.

"Seven?" Harry asked in utter disbelief. "You can't be serious?"

"Gee, Potter," Draco spat haughtily, "don't look like it's the scandal of the century. I assure you it was brief. Mere seconds. Not like my father would risk doing any permanent damage to his only heir; that would be too much of an embarrassment."

"But that's terrible! The Cruciatus is…it's awful. No matter how long. I wouldn't have thought…why?"

"Articulate, aren't we, Potter?" the icy prince of Slytherin drawled at the sputtering boy. "It was just a part of my upbringing, my training. When I was seven, my father wanted to teach me what it meant to be a pureblood. He was always talking about the muggle and mudblood filth taking up space in the world. They were disgusting, useless beasts with dirty blood. I'd never seen a muggle before, and the way he talked about them…I thought they must be these ugly, troll-like monstrosities covered in dirt and grime or something like that. But then he brought _her _in." Harry couldn't help but cringe at this point in the story. He had a very bad feeling that something terrible had happened to _her_.

"What happened?" he forced himself to ask, if only for Draco's sake. There were things about Malfoy, aspects of his personality, that Harry had never been able to understand. Now he was afraid to understand them, but he needed to all the same.

Draco continued, "She was a muggle, but she didn't look like a 'filthy beast.' She didn't look like a creature. She was human, like us. She looked like us. And then he put her under the Cruciatus, and I couldn't bear to watch her scream and writhe on the floor like he was killing her, like she wished he _would_ kill her. So, I looked away. My father demanded to know why, and I was seven and didn't know any better, so I told him what I'd been thinking."

"And then he crucioed you?" Harry asked soberly.

"He needed to show me what it was to be a muggle," Draco explained with a faraway look that told Harry he was somewhere else at the moment, in some other time and place. "He needed me to see that muggles aren't like us. They have no magic. Anything can be done to them, and they can't fight back. All they can do is scream. That's what makes them so pathetic."

"Seems to me that that's what makes Lucius Malfoy so pathetic," the Gryffindor interrupted angrily. He felt ill just thinking about it; Lucius Malfoy torturing a muggle in front of his seven-year-old son, and then in turn torturing his own child. And for what? Some sick and twisted lesson on the importance of being in power and control?

"Regardless," the blond Slytherin stated with a sigh, "my father got what he wanted. I never questioned him again. I'd always be the first to say that muggles were filth after that."

"You can't actually believe that!" the Golden Boy argued with everything he had.

"It doesn't matter what I believe! I don't have a choice in the matter if I don't want the Dark Lord's beliefs engrained in me by my father's wand rather than his words."

"But that's brainwashing!"

"That's survival! It's not like I was destined to be some do-gooder anyway. Trust me, I wasn't. I am what I am, and I do what I need to in order to survive," Draco argued impertinently.

"But you were seven!" Harry insisted vehemently for what little good it seemed to do.

"Not after that," the blond explained. "Being seven was a privilege I could no longer afford."

"And things like that…" Harry asked the boy in a shaky voice, "…they happened often?"

"Merlin, no!" the Slytherin snorted, "My father isn't some sort of barbaric ruffian, Potter! He has a reputation to protect. He isn't the type to drag his son down to the cellar every day and whip him with his staff. What kind of family do you think I come from, Potter? You can be seriously daft sometimes. Those were rare occurrences, saved for times of…dire need to teach me pureblood values – since, in his mind, I seemed to have an affinity for forgetting from time to time. But generally, Lucius Malfoy is much more subtle than that. He prefers the art of manipulation. Always the threat lingering in the air with no indication of when it will strike. Otherwise, I was given everything I could ever want: servants, the finest toys, the highest quality clothing; everything. I just always understood how fragile that affection was, so I had no choice but to go along with it like a proper Slytherin, a proper pureblood."

"But Malfoy!" Harry shouted at him. "That's disgusting!"

"That's wizarding aristocracy for you, Potter," Malfoy sniped at him. "Not too surprising you wouldn't have the stomach for it. We can't all have perfect lives."

"Perfect lives!" Harry exclaimed defensively. Now Malfoy was going too far. "Didn't you get anything out of my letters? My relatives are awful! They made me sleep in a cupboard, made me wear nothing but hand-me-downs, made me slave after them day in and day out, barely let me eat, and told the neighbors horrible lies about me! They treated me like a freak!"

Now Draco was looking at him rather oddly, something resembling shock and confusion in those silver orbs. Clearly, each boy had assumed, quite incorrectly, that the other lived a life of easy leisure.

"You were their house elf, Potter?" the blond asked Harry seriously. Harry thought about it for just a moment, never really having it put in that light before.

"Yes, I suppose so," he finally conceded with a tiny smile. Draco's lips morphed into a smile to match his own as a thought seemed to occur to him.

"My father is going to love this," he said. "I'm in love with another boy, who happens to be a half-blood, a Gryffindor, his Lord's greatest enemy, and a house elf. Now _that_ could be the scandal of the century; I don't think the Malfoy name will ever live it down." Both boys began to laugh hysterically at the thought, imagining the look on the frigid man's face at learning something that had previously seemed so ridiculous.

"Do you want me to owl him right now?" Harry chuckled.

"No, no," Draco managed between laughs, "I think it best to wait until the end of the year like we planned. Otherwise, I won't have anywhere to sleep; I don't think the Slytherins are going to take it well." Harry suddenly sobered at the statement. There was something else he had wanted to tell the other boy, and he desperately hoped it wouldn't shatter the fragile ice upon which they'd been standing.

"About that. I don't know that it's a good idea that we brew the Love Binding Potion for class. I mean, I want to give this thing a shot. See where it goes. It's just…we're 16. We haven't really thought this through, and we just figured out who the other person is. Do you think we could just…see how things go for a while? And then maybe someday, when the time is right, we could think about the potion again?" Harry ended slowly and cautiously, carefully observing any changes in the other boy's demeanor. To his great relief, Malfoy didn't look like he wanted to hex Harry on the spot. In fact, he looked like he was actually giving the idea some consideration.

"Okay," the blond finally conceded seriously. "I can live with that. But you do want to…keep seeing each other?"

"Definitely," Harry replied as he gently kissed the boy on the lips once more. "I actually…I actually had fun tonight. With you. Just talking. I didn't know we could do that."

"It's a surprise for me too, Potter."

Suddenly, both boys were drawn away from each other by a sudden vibration. They turned to the silenced door and with dismay noticed its hectic, beating tremors.

"Your housemates are pounding on the door," Harry said as he turned back to his Slytherin.

"Time to go. Will you meet me tomorrow?" the blond questioned as he took the dark-haired boy's hand in his.

"Of course. Same time? We can have dinner together in the Room of Requirement," Harry offered.

"Won't your housemates be suspicious? You missed dinner tonight too," Draco asked.

"They think I'm sick. I'll tell them I'm taking my meal in the hospital wing," Harry planned in quite the Slytherin manner if Draco said so himself. "Will your housemates be suspicious?"

"Please, Potter. I'm a Slytherin. They'd be more suspicious if I wasn't suspicious," Draco explained in his customary drawl, and Harry smiled at him as he squeezed the delicate hand affectionately.

"Right, then. Tomorrow," Harry whispered as he leaned in and claimed those perfect, pale lips one last time before dawning his invisibility cloak and being released reluctantly from the Slytherin rooms.


	13. Curious First Dates

**Chapter 13: Curious First Dates**

Harry had an impossible time falling asleep that night. Just hours before, any kind of civil relationship between himself and Draco Malfoy would have seemed utterly ridiculous. Now, however, Harry had to admit that there was something just _right_ about it. It was strange enough that they'd actually managed a civil conversation, but Harry felt as though he was beginning to understand now just what made Malfoy tick. Suddenly, the blond didn't seem like such an arrogant git anymore. In a way, Harry even admired him. The other Slytherins had given in so completely to Death Eater brainwashing that they'd probably plummet off of the astronomy tower if they were told to do it. Malfoy, though, still maintained that stubborn spark that Harry had once found so annoying but now couldn't help but be grateful for.

And then there was that kiss! Harry had thought that kissing another boy might be a bit strange at first. Like some voice in the back of his mind should be saying, "Careful, Harry. You're crossing a line here. You'll only be making it true, and you can never take it back." However, that wasn't the case at all; he didn't for a second feel that he was losing anything, but rather gaining a part of himself that had been missing for a long time. Kissing Draco was nothing like kissing Cho. Kissing Draco was…spectacular. And maybe that part was a bit strange to wrap his head around. Harry Potter liked kissing Draco Malfoy. Loved it, in fact.

As much as Harry looked forward to seeing Draco again the next evening, however, he certainly did not look forward to seeing Snape the next morning. He wanted to hit the blond all over again just thinking about how much he'd divulged to the greasy man. Almost.

Potions, of course, was the first class of the day. And from the minute that the Gryffindor walked into the dreary room he could feel the glare from the Potions Master's dark, black eyes. Of course Snape always glared at him, and so Harry hadn't really been any more aware of it over the past couple of weeks than he usually would have been. Now, though, he was painfully and awkwardly aware that there was something different in that searing look, something accusatory.

Taking his usual seat between Ron and Hermione, Harry couldn't help his cursory glance to the back of the room. There was Malfoy, sitting stoically beside Zabini and Parkinson looking every bit the conceited, annoying Malfoy heir he did every morning. But then, for merely a shadow of a second, he met Harry's gaze and smiled that beautiful, open smile reserved exclusively for the Golden Boy before returning to his usual façade. Harry could handle Snape, even if just for a fleeting glimpse of that smile.

* * *

It was nearing their lunch hour and Draco knew that he'd soon have to make an appearance in the Great Hall. Suffering through both Advanced Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts that morning without being able to talk to his Gryffindor had been really trying on his teenage patience. It was such a curious desire, he realized, to actually want to be near Potter. Who would ever have believed it?

Not knowing what else to do, Draco used his few spare moments before lunch to go to the library. Okay, so maybe he was set to see Potter tonight anyway and maybe the Potions assignment was long since completed, but coming here and finding notes from the other boy was something he'd learned to look forward to, and just maybe…

"**Dear Dragon,**

**Thanks for talking to me last night. You're a lot more complicated than I ever gave you credit for, and I see that now. We have more in common than I would have wanted to admit before all this started. And for the record, I'm glad that it did start. **

**I have everything in order for tonight. Don't worry about a thing. I'm looking forward to it. I'll see you at 6:00 in front of the place we talked about.**

**Love,**

**Extremely Handsome Bloke"**

Draco was looking forward to the meeting as well, but he was admittedly nervous too. The night before had gone fairly well, although the blond wished he hadn't shared quite as much personal information as he had. He was inclined to blame it on that kiss. After all, his head had been fuzzy ever since. In fact, it still was.

Nonetheless, it felt good to say some of that, and Harry was a good listener if nothing else. The Golden Boy even seemed relieved and rather happy that Draco had spoken to him openly, and Draco felt that he could tell him his deepest, darkest secrets if he'd wanted. No one had ever really listened to Draco before. The blond boy certainly was trapped within a blockade of expectations preventing him from sharing anything real anyway, but now Harry was telling him he was willing to let his go and just listen.

"**Dear Mr. Wishful Thinking,**

**I admit it was nice, but don't expect me to go crying on your shoulder every night. I doubt I've gone that pathetic just yet. Thanks for listening, though. No one has ever offered to do that before. **

**At any rate, Mr. Obvious, if you still want to keep this relationship a secret (and I know I bloody well do!) then you might want to practice a little subtlety, don't you think? Gawking at me all through Potions and DADA like a kneazle in heat isn't going to work!**

**But, you know, I suppose I was watching you too. Bit difficult, isn't it?**

**Anyway, about tonight, I'll be there. Then you can stare at me as much as you like. See you then.**

**Love,**

**EXTRAORDINARILY Handsome Bloke"**

* * *

The blond Slytherin stood impatiently in front of the wall, tapping his foot and absently scowling as he waited. Finally, Potter came sprinting clumsily down the hall with two red, silk bags in his hands.

"You're five minutes late, Potter!" the impatient blond snapped when the Gryffindor finally reached him, panting for breath.

"Get off it, Malfoy!" Harry spat back playfully when he'd found his air. "I had to get these." With that, he raised the two silk bags up for the other boy to see.

"What are they?" the blond questioned curiously.

"I called in a favor with the house elves. It's um…roast lamb and gravy, potatoes, and carrots I think. And they gave me some ice cream too," Harry answered sheepishly as Draco quirked a brow.

"House elves…of course," the other boy teased. "Old friends of yours, I'm sure. Shall we, then?"

Without further ado, the dark haired boy paced his familiar steps in front of the deceptively blank wall until the Room of Requirement made itself known to the two boys at last. Upon entering the room, they noticed that it was beautifully decorated in luxurious shades of neutral blues and white. The wooden table in the center of the room was small and intimate, lit only by warm candlelight, and the rest of the room was furnished in a large, plush sofa and silk draped four poster. Harry blushed at the scene.

"Do you think the room is trying to tell us something?" he asked his Slytherin companion.

"Don't get any ideas, Potter. I do intend to leave here with my virtue intact," the blond informed coyly as the two set up for their meal with the provided amenities.

"_You_ have virtue, Malfoy?" the Gryffindor asked in mock disbelief.

"Perhaps not as much as you do, Potter," Malfoy drawled teasingly. "But I assure you I have many virtues. They say patience is a virtue, after all, and I _am _dating you, aren't I? I think that speaks for itself."

"I think that one goes both ways," Harry informed with quirked brows.

"Hardly. I make impeccable company, Potter. You're lucky to have me gracing your presence," Draco was sure to inform as the two began their meal.

By instinct, Harry wanted to argue back with some scathing retort, but in a strange way he was almost inclined to agree with the blond. When not threatening to shoot hexes at him or incessantly bragging about his precious and perfect heritage, Harry was surprised to find that he was enjoying the Slytherin's company. Even the usual banter was suddenly fun and exciting in a way Harry would never have expected.

"And speaking of company," the blond continued over a sip of pumpkin juice, "I'm sure the Weasel and Granger must be missing yours. How is it they've yet to pry into your personal affairs? I always thought the Golden Trio had no secrets from each other. It's very Slytherin of you."

"You wish, Malfoy," the Gryffindor warned. "Don't go grouping me in with your lot. I'm just not ready to tell them yet, and I'm sure you prefer it that way for the time being."

"Certainly. The last thing I need is _this _going around the school. Although I do suspect the look on the Weasel's face will be priceless. When the time comes, I think maybe I'll be the one to inform Weasley," the Slytherin prince said with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"Not on your life, Malfoy," Harry cut in quickly. "I do actually want to keep my friends. I hope this whole thing isn't just to torture Ron."

"Just an added bonus," the other boy drawled. "Besides, I now find myself without a worthy rival. You will need to be replaced. However, I dare say that asinine Weasel is unlikely to make a competent opponent." Harry rolled his eyes at his companion's antics.

"Does that mean you're going to stop making my life miserable?" he asked.

"I never said that," the blond stated with an evil grin. Harry was still the mouse to Malfoy's cat, after all.

"Anyway," Harry stated with a sigh, "I'm not ready to tell them about me just yet. I managed to tell Ginny, and that was hard enough." Suddenly, the blond boy was choking on his juice.

"The Weaselette?" he choked out harshly. "You told the Weaselette! What _exactly _did you tell her?"

"Er…"

"So…everything, then? Potter! What the bloody hell were you thinking?"

"Well, you told Snape!" Harry shot back defensively, but the other boy was already panicking.

"And Severus is not the school gossip!"

"Neither is Ginny! Look, she isn't going to tell anyone. Okay? Actually, she's the one who persuaded me to give you a chance," the Gryffindor admitted.

"The Weaselette? I'm sure I believe that! She's been swooning all over you since the beginning of the year," the blond argued hotly. He didn't like this turn of events one bit.

"Which is why I owed it to her to let her know why it could never work out. Look, it's going to be fine, Draco. I promise," Harry insisted sincerely, and suddenly the Slytherin had calmed immensely as he watched the other boy with bated breath.

"What did you call me?" he finally asked.

"Um…Draco," the other boy answered, not entirely sure what the Slytherin was getting at.

"I…you're right. Everything is going to be fine. I'm sorry, then."

* * *

The roast lamb had been good, Harry thought, but it was nothing compared to this. Looking into those silver orbs as he straddled the other boy on the bed and ran his fingertips over the soft skin of his pale cheek, Harry leaned in and kissed the blond vigorously. The Slytherin's jaw had been healed, Harry noted. That in itself wasn't too much of a surprise. Harry could admit to himself that even with his own guilty conscience, given the option between penance and being kissed silly, he'd go with the kissing as well.

Draco moaned under his ministrations as he kissed the dark-haired boy back furiously. He twisted his delicate hands into the Gryffindor's mass of thick, messy hair and marveled at the soft feel of those dark tresses. Oh, how he loved that hair! And to think, he'd been teasing Potter about it for years. What kind of complete fool had he been?

Suddenly, the other boy's hands traveled down from his face, along the side of his rib cage and rested tightly around his slender waist. Harry seemed to have figured out that kissing in other places besides just the mouth was actually quite enjoyable as he ran his tongue lightly over the soft spot of Draco's neck. The blond shivered at the feeling as the kissing intensified. This was the most brilliant thing in the entirety of the planet. Forget all that nonsense with wands and incantations, Draco thought, _this _is real magic.

"That's nice," the blond moaned as his grip tightened in the other boy's messy hair. "Merlin! Keep doing that!" Talking was so overrated.

Pulling at the Slytherin's robes, Harry managed to remove them with a little help from Draco, revealing the blond's ebony black button down shirt and black trousers. He quickly moved his hands up to the collar of the shirt and began undoing the buttons hastily as he kissed down the ivory chest. Harry was so tempted to just rip the shirt off the blond and be done with it, but Draco seemed the type to be sensitive about his expensive clothing.

"That's good, Potter," the Slytherin moaned as the gentle kissing and touching continued its explorations over his bare chest.

"I think," Harry mumbled breathlessly, continuing to kiss his way down the smooth chest, "that you can call me Harry, now."

"Harry…"

Harry stopped abruptly and stared deeply into the grey eyes with a quizzical expression on his face.

"What is it? Why'd you stop?" the blond questioned quickly.

"It's just…Well, my name sounds really weird coming from you."

"Do you want me to go back to Potter?"

"No, no. I kind of like it," the green-eyed boy admitted with a gentle smile.

Suddenly, Draco flipped them over so that he was on top and started undoing the surprised Gryffindor's robes as well.

"Good, Harry. Then let me show you what else you might like," he teased as he took command of the situation and kissed the Gryffindor roughly on the mouth. After he'd tired out somewhat, he allowed the kisses to become softer and more affectionate. Running his fingers over the scar, he kissed it too. He wanted Harry to know that he loved every part of him, saw no imperfections.

The other boy seemed to approve as he slid his hands through Draco's hair as well. Becoming frustrated, he pulled out his wand and cast a cleansing spell on the delicate white blond locks until they hung soft and loose. Draco seemed taken aback for just a moment, not sure what had happened, before he ran his own hands through his now silky hair.

"What was that for?" he asked the Gryffindor.

"I like it better like this," Harry explained. "When it actually moves. You don't need all that extra stuff. You're beautiful." Draco stared intensely into the other boy's eyes.

"You think I'm beautiful?"

"Yes."

"Merlin, Harry!" he shouted. "I'm not a girl!"

"I know! And I don't want you to be. But I think you're beautiful anyway," the Gryffindor explained with a blush.

"Well, thanks," the blond conceded slowly and uncertainly. "You're not so bad yourself, Harry."

"Really?" Harry asked in disbelief. "What was that you usually call me? Scarhead?"

"Well…it kind of grows on you, I guess," Draco admitted sheepishly as he gently traced the lightning bolt with his thumb. Harry smiled warmly at him.

"You know, I just pointed a wand at your head and you didn't even flinch."

"Huh. Well, I guess I trust you," the blond said softly, but Harry knew what he was really saying.

"I know. I love you too."

Draco kissed him again, soft, sincere, and perfect.

"So…these muggle relatives of yours…" the blond began, but was quickly cut off by a groaning Harry Potter.

"Are you _trying _to ruin the mood, Draco?"

"No, of course not. I could do this all day. I was just wondering…" he said.

"Wondering what?" the Golden Boy asked quizzically as he shifted in bed so that he was lying next to the blond and looking into his eyes.

"Are they typical of muggles? I mean, are all muggles horrible like that?"

"Oh, I see what this is," the dark-haired boy stated knowingly. "You want to know if your father is right. You want to know if he's justified."

"Is he?" the blond asked seriously, having been tortured by this question long enough.

"No, Draco. I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but they don't deserve to be massacred. They _are _like us, Draco. Some are bloody awful, some are really good, and most of them are just somewhere in the middle," Harry explained.

"Yeah, I kind of figured," the Slytherin murmured quietly. "I mean, he'd probably kill me for what we're doing and I'm his son. It's just…"

"He's your father, I know," Harry finished with a reassuring hand to the other boy's arm. "But no matter what, you still have me." Then an idea occurred to the Gryffindor, "And…we can go together. This summer. I can take you to muggle London and you can see for yourself!"

"You want to take _me _to muggle London? You've gone barmy!" the blond shouted with wide eyes.

"Why not? You're obviously curious," the Gryffindor reasoned.

"Because I'm Draco Malfoy! Malfoys don't mingle with muggles!"

"Okay, then," Harry said with a sly smile. "You're right. Terrible idea. We won't do that."

Draco watched the boy for a couple of minutes, thoughtfully, but it didn't look like he was going to say anything else. Where was that Potter stubbornness? He was just scrapping the idea just like that?

"Well…" Draco muttered. "Maybe we could go for just a little while."

"If you want to," Harry conceded with a confident smirk. Years of arguing with the infuriating blond boy were finally paying off. Harry knew exactly how to push his buttons.

"So…what's it like?"

"It's a lot different. They don't have magic so they have to rely on technology more. Like they travel in cars instead of by broom or floo, and they communicate with a telephone instead of the fire, and they deliver mail with a postman instead of by owl," Harry explained. Draco nodded at him, but he looked completely confused. "I'll show you. I think you need to see it to understand it. But um…you can't wear your robes. They'd think you were nutters."

"Why would I wear my robes? I'll just wear what I usually wear," the blond stated simply, but the Gryffindor shook his head vehemently.

"No, you can't do that! You might as well tattoo 'pompous git' to your forehead."

"I thought I already had it written up there somewhere. What with the number of times you've called me that," the Slytherin teased and Harry couldn't help but laugh.

"We'll figure it out later, Draco. And before you ask, you can't go starkers either! But um…it's getting late. I'll be missed if I'm gone much longer," Harry told him regretfully.

"Me too. I'll leave you a message and we can plan something again soon," the Slytherin offered.

"That'll work. And about that last one…I wasn't really looking at you like a kneazle in heat, was I?"

"Let's just say the drool was pooling at your feet and I was debating transfiguring my table into a life raft," Draco told him with a cocky grin and the Gryffindor shook his head thoughtfully before putting his robes back on and giving his Slytherin a long, lingering kiss goodbye.

"I'll see you soon, Drake."

Draco smiled affectionately at the other boy for just a second.

"I like that. I'll see you, Harry."

And everything was right with the world.


	14. Till the Next Goodbye

**Chapter 14: Till the Next Goodbye**

Pansy was once again squealing irritatingly in his ear as he tried futilely to listen to Severus's instructions. He rolled his silver eyes in aggravation, not even bothering to look at the girl anymore.

"But Draco, darling, it's just that it looks so common…"

"It's fine, Pans," he said straightly as he heard Harry chuckling at him lightly in the seat in front of him. Damn girls and damn Griffindors!

"But it isn't even styled!"

"I like my hair better this way, Pansy," he insisted to no avail as the girl kept poking at his still soft hair and whining incessantly.

"But, Drakey! It's like you aren't even trying anymore! Tell me this isn't for _her_! She's ruining you, darling!"

Draco just sighed despondently as he went back to trying to ignore the girl. It was all he could do if he could neither appease her nor shut her up, and he was with Harry on this one. He liked the feel of fingers through his hair and along his scalp, but even that was not the only benefit; he actually saved a nice amount of time in the morning now. Besides, he kind of liked the way his Gryffindor kept turning around to look at him, despite the fact he'd warned him already to stop doing that.

Severus now seemed perturbed as his dark, penetrating stare shifted back and forth between Harry and Draco. Merlin Harry! Did he have to make it so obvious? Severus surely knew that something had occurred between them, and that was clear in his excessively rigid mannerisms and intense, invasive staring. Draco suddenly wished he was better at Occlumency; he couldn't help but feel exposed under those dark, judging eyes. Draco would have to tell his godfather something soon.

After morning classes, the blond found himself at his usual table in the library with the blue binding book open in front of him. He folded his note carefully and placed it inside the book before returning it to the shelf.

"**Dear Drooling Dork,**

**Thanks for last night. I had a brilliant time. I'll have to plan the next one. It would be nice if we could actually go somewhere. I'm certain I can figure it out soon.**

**In the meantime, I think there's a small matter we need to take care of. Meet me in the dungeons after dinner. Be discreet, if you know what I mean. I'll be waiting, so do try to actually be on time this once.**

**Love,**

**Sexy Blond**

**P.S. And for the love of Merlin stop staring at me, or mark my words, I really will hex you into next week!"**

* * *

"The hospital wing, Harry? Really?" Ron asked the frustrated boy for what seemed to be the millionth time that day.

"Yes, Ron. I told you that yesterday. I still wasn't feeling well," Harry attempted to assure the suspicious redhead.

"I know what you said, mate. But you were gone for hours, and I swear when you came back you looked like you'd been snogging the whole time. So unless your secret girlfriend is Pomfrey…"

"Ron!" Harry whined in protest as the two walked across the grounds on their way to visit Hagrid. However, just as they turned the castle corner they were greeted with the presence of none other than Draco Malfoy and his goons as Harry walked smack dab into the chest of the haughty blond boy.

"Watch where you're going, Potter!" the Slytherin snapped angrily as he shoved the other boy away from him. The Gryffindor didn't even look phased as he approached the blond menacingly.

"Why don't _you_ watch it, Malfoy! What, are you stalking me or something?" Harry shot back with matching heat as he attempted to intimidate the fuming Slytherin. Draco smirked knowingly at him with a smug countenance and arrogant stance, an effective and well-practiced mask.

"Or something," Goyle snickered stupidly. "What would Draco want with you, Potter?"

"Yeah, Potter," Crabbe agreed enthusiastically at the annoyed look on the Gryffindor's face. "What would Draco want with you? You're pathetic."

"Get lost, Malfoy! You're just jealous! I mean, look at what you keep for friends. It's no wonder you have nothing more interesting to do than torment us, you sour git," Ron cut in on the laughing buffoons, getting ready for a dual if need be. Crabbe and Goyle stopped their childish giggling abruptly, attention piqued by the direct insult.

"What did you say, Weasley?" Goyle challenged with intentional threat implied clearly in his voice like the promise of a snake's poisonous venom.

"I can handle this," Draco drawled coolly as he pushed past his goons, past the angry redhead, and marched arrogantly up to Harry. Ron shot forward to stop the annoying blond but was grabbed by the Slytherin's incompetent thugs and held firmly in their grasp. He struggled to free himself, but they had him by both arms and there was no way he was going to make it to his best friend's side.

Continuing to advance on the other boy, Draco backed Harry into the castle wall and threw his hands threateningly against it on either side of the Gryffindor's face. He brought his own face close to Harry's ear and allowed his features to contort in condescending disgust as if he was about to say something particularly scathing.

"I had a good time last night," he whispered softly instead, still with viciousness in his facial features. Harry was sure to take his boyfriend's queue and twist his own features likewise, looking annoyed and properly insulted.

"I did too. By the way, I like the hair. When can I see you again?" he whispered as he allowed one hand to run down the Slytherin's side and clutch softly at his waist as Draco's body was positioned in such a way that blocked the others' view. The blond boy's breath hitched for just a moment at the contact.

"I left you a letter in the library, Harry," he answered before shoving himself away from the wall. "Understand, Potter?" the blond spat harshly.

"Got it, Malfoy!" Harry shouted back as Ron was finally released and the three Slytherins sauntered into the castle with wicked gleams dancing in their eyes. Harry watched his Slytherin go, fighting the smile that threatened his features.

"Blimey, mate!" Ron lamented as he brushed off his robes. "What a git! I swear, I almost had him!"

* * *

Alone at last, Draco was on his way back to the Slytherin common room. He would see Harry again soon, and now he just wanted some time to himself to think about everything that had happened recently. In some ways, it felt like it was all happening too fast. But at other times it felt like it was happening much too slowly. After all, Draco's time was limited before he'd be expected to take the Dark Mark. Just earlier that year, he'd been all too willing to accept the mark. He'd had no other option, and he certainly was not going to stand up to his father. He knew he was a coward for it, but in some ways the idea of the Dark Mark had almost been appealing. A fitting end that he surely deserved. He'd been brought up to believe that power was everything. Power, wealth, influence. The Dark Mark gave him those things, and he was frightened of living a life without them. He was still terrified now, no braver than he had been then. But now at least he wasn't alone. The Dark Mark would mean losing Harry, losing himself. Suddenly, nothing else seemed quite as important.

So now Draco refused. He would not take the Dark Mark. Not now after he knew what it could feel like to be happy. And he certainly was happy! If only the Dark Lord and his father weren't such a threat. Draco didn't know what to do with himself if he lost everything, but he was smart enough to plan for every possibility. He had a savings of his own, and now he intended to milk his parents for all he could get and store his small fortune away for when he would have no choice but to defect from the darkness – when the Dark Mark became more than just a threat. Of course, that wasn't the easiest task when his father was still so incensed by his failure with the gargoyle. He had yet to receive a letter from the man, but that just meant he was stewing pensively alone in the manor. Draco could envision it now; Lucius Malfoy poised rigidly in his study, twisting the silver-tipped head of his cane contemptuously about in his long, elegant, yet dangerous fingers as he contemplated the perfect punishment for his failure of a son. Draco shivered.

Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted.

"Malfoy!" a feminine voice called out to him as he was walking down the corridor. Turning around slowly, he found himself face to face with none other than Ginny Weasley. Terrific…

"What do you want, Weaselette?" he ground out as his eyes darted around the empty hall, making absolutely certain that no one was lurking in the shadows. The halls were empty, and the Weasley girl was eyeing him with distaste.

"I have something to say to you, Malfoy. That's all," she stated flatly as she glared at him suspiciously.

"I can imagine," the blond said with a smirk. "After all, it seems you lose, Weaselette. _He _doesn't want you." The "_he wants me"_ was left unsaid, but the redhead seemed to hear it all the same as it hung bitterly in the air between them. For just a moment, she looked pained. She swallowed.

"This isn't about me," she argued. "This is about Harry. I just don't want to see him get hurt."

"Shh," the blond hissed at the silly redheaded girl before stepping closer to her and allowing his voice to drop into a harsh whisper. "Do you want the whole school to find out?"

"Of course not, but there's no one else here. I just need to be sure that you're on the level for once, Malfoy."

"So you're his bodyguard then?" the Slytherin teased coolly with an amused twitch of his lips, but the girl continued to look at him earnestly. She was not as easily rattled as her brother.

"I'm his friend," she explained sincerely.

"Listen, Weaselette," Draco began with a sigh, "I'd really rather you didn't know anything about any of this. But since Harry can't keep his mouth shut, I'm sure I have no choice but to humor you. I'm not going to hurt Harry. You on the other hand…well, I can't make any promises."

However, the redheaded witch seemed to completely disregard his insult this time as she broke into her usual effervescence.

"Harry, huh?" she chirped with a sly, understanding smile. "You've got it bad!"

"I…" he narrowed his grey eyes.

"Don't worry, Malfoy. Your secret is safe with me. I just needed to be sure," she explained to the wide-eyed Slytherin.

"And you are?" he asked, and she paused for the briefest of moments while she considered the question.

"No, not entirely. But I can tell that you are, and that's what matters. I can't say that I'm happy about it, but he loves you, you know?"

"I know. I love him too," he admitted to the girl before he could catch himself.

"Just don't mess it up, Malfoy. I'll be watching you," she said before she flitted away in the opposite direction. Damn girls and damn Gryffindors! And it was so much worse when the two were combined! For the first time, he couldn't help but thank Merlin that he was gay.

* * *

This time it was Draco who was late as Harry waited in the dark dungeon corridor. He was surprised Draco wanted to see him again so soon, but he certainly wasn't complaining. He inclined his back against the cold, stone wall as he waited under his invisibility cloak for his Slytherin boyfriend. Perhaps punctuality was a virtue neither boy possessed. Finally, Draco ambled down the hall looking curiously around the dungeon passages, obviously seeking out Harry.

"Harry," he whispered carefully near the dungeon entrance.

"I'm here," Harry answered as he pulled the cloak off himself and beamed at the Slytherin. Wrapping his arms around the blond, he leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips. He half expected Draco to push him away and berate him for such a public display of affection, but the other boy returned his kiss eagerly if only briefly. He then pushed away slowly and looked around for watchful eyes before smiling back at Harry.

"What was so urgent? Why are we meeting in the dungeon?" the Gyffindor finally asked.

"Right then. This way," the blond answered quickly as he grabbed Harry's cloak, threw it over the both of them, took the green-eyed boy's hand, and led him down the hall. Harry stayed close; he had to, after all. Breathing in the other boy's scent, he squeezed his boyfriend's hand more tightly as he wondered what Draco had planned. The dungeons may not be the most romantic spot in the castle, but Harry figured Draco was creative enough to make it work. Besides, if the other boy simply wanted to snog in some dark corner, hell, that was totally fine too! That's when Draco stopped abruptly.

"Um…Draco?" Harry asked hesitantly. "Why are we stopping outside of Snape's office?" Invisibility cloak or no, Harry certainly didn't want to snog in there!

"We need to talk to him about our potion. Besides, don't you want to do something about your essay grade? We both know that you didn't cheat," Draco told him smoothly, but Harry just shook his head.

"Not if it means talking to Snape…about us," he grimaced. Snape already knew too much if anyone wanted to ask him. Apparently, no one did…

"Get over it, Harry. I had to talk to Ginny Weasley about _us_ today."

"You talked to Ginny? About us?" the shocked Gryffindor gasped.

"I did. So I would have to say that you owe me. You really,_ really_ owe me, Harry."

"And? What did she say?" Harry asked quickly before the other boy could knock on the door.

"I gathered that she approves. Now, are we doing this or not?" Draco asked shortly. Harry finally conceded with a curt nod, so the Slytherin pounded on the thick door in front of them as the Gryffindor shifted uncomfortably in place.

"Enter!" they heard as Draco pushed the door open, yanked the cloak off, tossed it to Harry, and pulled the protesting Gryffindor into Severus Snape's office.

Harry's breath hitched in his chest as Snape's mood seemed to sour even more than usual when he recognized just who had entered his office. His black eyes traveled from their faces down to their joined hands where they sat transfixed and dark. Self-consciously, Harry released his grip on Draco's hand, but once he'd let go he wasn't quite sure what to do with the limb that seemed to have his professor so mesmerized, so he let it droop awkwardly at his side. Finally, Snape returned his attention to Draco, effectively shutting Harry out completely as if he wasn't in the room at all.

"So I see you have forgone my advice after all, Draco. I had suspected as much, but I am sorely displeased nonetheless," Snape deadpanned in his silky intonation. Now Harry seemed to know what to do with that hand as he clenched it into a tight fist at his side.

"He doesn't need your advice!" Harry snapped, tired of Snape's interference into his personal affairs.

"Oh, but it seems he does. Lest he make any…_poor_ choices," the man droned with irritating satisfaction. "And am I to assume, _Potter_, that you pretend to return Draco's affections?"

"Yes, I do. And it isn't pretense," Harry stated, leaving no room for argument as Draco smiled ever so slightly at the Gryffindor's assuredness. Snape, however, just looked sick as his sallow complexion yellowed even further.

"You expect me to believe that?" he interrogated dryly. "It seems to me this little scheme is nothing more than another one of your ploys for attention. Oh, yes. Famous little Harry Potter. It isn't enough to be the alleged savior of the Wizarding World. It isn't enough to have been the youngest Seeker at Quidditch. It certainly isn't enough to live vicariously through embellished fairytales of your so-called heroics under the swoon of the public eye whilst actually having accomplished absolutely nothing. No, now you must parade about the castle with another boy. A Slytherin. Your rival. I imagine the papers would be all too happy to provide you with that attention you've been so desperately craving. Isn't that right, Potter?"

"I don't really care what you think, Professor," Harry informed the snarky professor flatly as he reached out and grabbed Draco's hand in his own once again, running his fingers affectionately over the soft flesh as he glared daggers into the bat-like man. This time he did not let go. Severus was livid.

"And you would take advantage of an innocent boy when he is just coming to grips with his identity? You will kill him with that potion, Potter!" Snape bit out angrily as he watched the two with growing concern. He wanted desperately to cling to what he'd been saying, to believe it, but Harry was resolute and even Snape could see the devotion in his green eyes whenever he glanced at the blond boy. And worse yet, Draco returned it. Somehow, these two rivals had actually managed to fall in love with one another. Things would be so much easier if they hadn't. Didn't they understand that?

"He's hardly innocent…" Harry began to argue, but Draco pushed him aside and stepped between the two bickering wizards.

"If you two would just stop for a minute, we have business to take care of. We didn't come here for your blessing, Severus. We've decided not to brew the potion after all," the Slytherin boy explained. Now Snape smiled bitterly at the two.

"Perhaps you are not as foolish as I thought, Draco. Finally realized a lifetime of Potter would be too great an affliction, then?" he remarked bitterly.

"It was his idea, actually," Draco said calmly, used enough to Severus's snarky attitude to not be offended by his biting remarks.

"It's not that I don't want to," Harry interrupted quickly as he took Draco's hand once again. "I just don't want to rush it. It may not be the best time."

"That I can agree with," the put out professor conceded. "Certainly the Headmaster would not approve of a double suicide should your affections fail you. I suppose I could allow a change of topic, even so late in the year."

"For both of us?" Draco asked pleadingly.

"Yes, yes…" Snape allowed grudgingly, seeing that he had no other choice if he wanted to deter his godson. In true Slytherin fashion, Draco was manipulating Snape's own affection for his godson, and the Potions Master knew it well. It annoyed him to no end, but he would play along for now if he must.

"And what about Harry's essay grade?"

"I suppose, under the circumstances, I can believe that he did not cheat after all. I may have been just a bit…hasty in my accusations. He will be awarded the grade he deserves, but in return I expect _both _of your cooperation. There will be no more idiocy with the binding potion. Is that understood?" the greasy man bargained strictly as the two students nodded their agreement.

"Understood," they said together.

"And I will also require weekly Occlumency lessons with myself for the both of you," he continued dryly as Harry moaned in protest. The last thing he wanted to do was have Snape digging around in his mind again. "Is there a problem, Potter?" the greasy man spat. "I am sure that certain things have occurred between the two of you that you wouldn't want the Dark Lord to see. Certain things that would be very dangerous for young Mr. Malfoy if they were to be exposed."

"No offense, sir, but I'd rather you didn't see them either," Harry admitted harshly.

"As would I, Mr. Potter. But unfortunately neither you nor I have any choice in the matter if we wish to keep this little affair from the Dark Lord," Snape said with barely concealed disgust. If only these two imbecilic boys hadn't gotten into this mess in the first place…

"Fine," Harry responded flatly. "Will that be all then?" Snape merely nodded, not wanting to prolong this distasteful conversation. With that, Harry dropped Draco's hand and turned around, storming out of the room in a huff. Draco suddenly looked alarmed and slightly self-conscious.

"So…" he began cautiously as he looked to his most respected professor once again.

"You are dismissed, Draco," Snape cut him off quickly before turning back dismissively to the papers on his desk. Draco watched him for just a moment longer before leaving the room.

* * *

Harry stood shivering in the cold air as he watched the night sky thoughtfully. It was cold enough so that he could see his breath hanging in the air like a phantom in the dark. He held Draco's letter in his hand firmly as he waited for the other boy, hoping that he wasn't about to be surprised yet again with another trip to see Snape. Slowly, he pocketed the note as he remembered the words he'd read only hours before.

"**Dear Sulking Lion,**

**So I can tell that you're a little irritated with me after last night. But we really did need to do something about that sooner or later. It was your idea not to brew the potion, you know! Look, meet me tonight on the Quidditch pitch at 9:00. I promise I'll have something better for you, and it will be just the two of us this time.**

**I hope I'll see you there.**

**Love,**

**Your Dragon"**

Harry was standing on the Quidditch pitch now, watching the stars as they twinkled brightly in the darkened sky. The moonlight illuminated the pitch with the faintest touch of heaven. He had to admit, it was kind of beautiful.

"Who's a cliché now?" he couldn't help but ask as he heard the blond approaching from behind. Suddenly, those perfect, pale arms were wrapped around him once again, and this time he didn't even dream of removing them.

"Of course. That's how I knew you'd like it," the Slytherin whispered affectionately in the dark haired boy's ear as he wrapped his arms more tightly around him. "Forgive me?"

"Well…I don't think you've quite made it up to me yet, Drake," Harry teased his blond.

"I'll have to do something about that then. Get on," Draco commanded as he released his hold on the other boy. Confused, Harry turned around to face his boyfriend only to find him picking up his broomstick from where he'd apparently laid it on the ground.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see," the blond said with a wink. The Gryffindor smiled at him, and his dragon returned it warmly.

Running his hand gently through that beautiful blond hair, Harry climbed onto the back of the broom and wrapped his arms tightly around his Slytherin as the blond kicked off. And off they went, together, into the stars.


	15. Always a Fine Line

**Chapter 15: Always a Fine Line**

Harry allowed his grip on Draco's waist to instinctively tighten as they flew higher into the night sky, the wind rushing past their faces and dancing in their robes. They flew over the stands and out over the Forbidden Forest, the trees becoming a blanket of black and charcoal in the darkness. It was a beautiful moment in its serenity and freedom, and the two boys felt almost like escaped fugitives as they raced quickly into the stars. The night was quiet and perfect before them as they slowed enough to gaze into it in a peaceful silence. It was Draco who eventually broke that comfortable quiet, with a sly smile gracing his face all the while.

"How tight is your grip?" the blond asked mischievously.

"Tight. Why?" Harry questioned carefully with a quizzical look that Draco couldn't see anyway.

"Because I think it's about time you learned what real flying feels like," and with that the Slytherin shot forward at full speed, pulling the broom upward at a steep incline before ending his ascent with an impressive loop and plummeting for the trees as if his broom was on fire. At that last second before impact, he pulled the neck straight, slowing to a leisurely pace as their two sets of legs tickled the uppermost branches of the forest trees.

"Scared now, Potter?" Draco sneered jokingly, easing into the old familiarity minus any real animosity. But though Harry's grip on him was tight, he felt no tremble from the other boy, no hitch of breath. Instead, Harry broke out into glorious laughter as he buried his face in the blond's neck.

"Not on your life, Malfoy." He attempted to sneer back, but the large grin plastered on his face made his voice come out light and humorous instead. "What was that? You have to turn everything into a competition, don't you?"

Draco scowled into the starry void. Damn Gryffindor bravery! He hadn't really expected the Golden Boy to be frightened. But impressed at the very least! And here he was laughing at him in gentle hysterics. Maybe he should have flown them upside down over the trees? He just didn't want to make it look over-staged and tacky.

"I'd like to see you do that with as much grace, Harry," the Slytherin stated in annoyance, but allowing the tiniest of smiles to creep onto his lips. Draco-planned date: success. At his expense, but still.

"All right then," Harry blurted out, interrupting Draco from his thoughts. "Accio Firebolt," the Gryffindor said as he removed his wand from his robes and waved it before him.

"What are you doing?" the surprised blond demanded.

"Showing you real flying. Wasn't that the idea?" Suddenly, Harry's Firebolt sped into view and halted in anticipation next to the duo. Harry grabbed hold and swung himself aboard before giving his boyfriend a cocky smirk.

"And you say_ I_ turn everything into a competition?" Draco asked with a quirked brow.

"Guilty, I guess," Harry admitted with a blush. "Now, let's see what you've got."

Suddenly, Harry was off, whisking through the trees and darting around the snaggled limbs as if they were an obstacle course he'd flown a million times before. Tiring of this particular show, he shot abruptly from the branches in a perfectly graceful double loop before evening out. Draco laughed to himself. Impressive indeed, but there was no way he was going to let Harry Potter show him up.

Joining the other boy, Draco weaved around him teasingly until Harry began chasing after him in an impromptu game of tag. Both boys showed off all the while, one impressive stunt after the next until the chase was all but forgotten.

"Race ya!" Harry shouted as he darted forward faster than he'd ever flown, and Draco was all too happy to accept the challenge as he pushed himself to match that speed. With the wind whipping through their hair they raced on with no designated end, so fast that they didn't feel the rain coming down until it was down pouring all around them.

"I think it's raining!" Harry exclaimed through the thick, wet wind with clenched eyes.

"No kidding!" Draco responded with an eye roll. "I guess that's that then!"

"Maybe not!" Harry shouted over the noise of the falling water. "Follow me!"

Harry led his Slytherin back over the forest and over the castle grounds post haste, right into the Astronomy Tower. Landing on the cold, stone floor with a loud thud, the boys dismounted their brooms and turned to face one another. Both boys were breathing hard from the excitement and adrenaline. Harry couldn't resist as he pulled the blond in close and kissed him deeply. Both boys were completely drenched, but neither could care as hands glided through tangled, wet locks of hair and over rain slicked skin that glistened in the moonlight as if they'd been catching the stars instead of just flying beneath them.

Draco's lips trembled ever so slightly from the chill as Harry attempted to warm them with his own. Harry's hands slid from the soft, pale skin to the blond's robes as he yanked them off. Removing the Slytherin's tie, he started undoing the shirt as well until it dropped soundlessly to the floor.

"Why are you undressing me in the Astronomy Tower, Harry?" Draco asked, though without protest at the feel of warmer hands on his freezing chest.

"Because you're shivering and you look like a drowned rat," the Gryffindor answered warmly, even as his Slytherin scowled darkly at him. "Body heat," he explained with a smile.

"Then shouldn't you get undressed too?" the blond asked slyly as Harry continued on with his task. The dark-haired boy halted for just a moment as he looked into Draco's silver eyes.

"I was hoping you could help me with that," he admitted as he reached for the blond's belt.

"Brilliant," Draco whispered eagerly against the Gryffindor's lips before undoing the boy's robe and tossing it haphazardly to the side. He removed the other boy's tie and jumper, undid his belt with agonizing slowness, and slid his trousers to the floor. The air was cool and both boys' limbs were littered in goose bumps, but neither was able to acknowledge the chill in the air; they would swear on Merlin's grave that the trembling of their bodies was in no part due to the weather as Harry laid out his cloak on the floor and pulled the blond down onto it.

The kiss was tender and soft, without challenge for just this once and both boys found themselves in complete agreement for the first time in six years. There was no mistake about to be made, and of that they were certain as limbs tangled and lips pressed more firmly together.

"Are we…?" Draco asked seriously as he pulled away from the other boy and looked intently into those protective green eyes.

"I think so. Is that all right? You want to?"

Draco didn't need a moment's hesitation. Harry would never hurt him, and he would never hurt Harry. Whatever had happened in the past, grievances both large and small, no longer mattered in the least.

"More than anything," Draco replied honestly before kissing the other boy again. The moment had become larger than life as Draco committed every minute detail to memory. The smell of the rain in Harry's hair, the gentleness of his hand roaming over Draco's forearm, the breathtaking sight of those wonderful eyes that were too beautiful and too green to be real, and the intrusive sound of Filch's cat darting up the steps and yowling noisily in the stairwell. Wait…what?

Quickly, Draco shoved the messy haired boy away from him and pulled the cloak up around himself in an undignified fright at his state of undress. Harry could practically hear the blond's heart beating out of his chest, and his was doing the same.

Mrs. Norris continued her incessant whine until Filch could be heard calling her name and bounding up the steps after her. Oh, this was not good at all. Draco was half invisible with disheveled blond locks sticking out in every direction, and Harry was in nothing but his shorts with his glasses barely hanging by one ear and in a rather compromising state for any boy to be seen in after what he and Draco had just been doing.

Thinking fast on his feet, he darted about the tower and urgently gathered up their strewn about clothing in a heap in his arms. It was no easy task as somehow the clothing had been tossed in every direction as if a pack of wild dogs had torn apart a camper's duffel. The situation at hand wasn't so different.

Having gathered all that he could find, he darted behind the cloak and kicked Draco hard in the calf. The blond shot him a dirty look before realizing what his boyfriend was trying to communicate and pulled the cloak hastily over both of their heads just as Filch spewed breathlessly into the tower with one hand clutching at his burning lungs.

"What's gotten into you tonight, Mrs. Norris?" he asked the feline as he scanned the room apprehensively. "What's up here, girl?"

The cat let out a low meow, a sure indication to Argus Filch that something no good was underfoot. He stepped cautiously into the tower, nostrils flaring with suspicion and eyes narrowed. He was going to catch some hooligans tonight, and they were going to pay!

"Who's in here?" he demanded as the lightning outside illuminated the room just long enough for him to get a good, solid look about the place. Aha! Walking briskly to the open archway, he reached out and snatched something – or two somethings rather – leaning against the wall. Harry recognized them instantly: his and Draco's broomsticks.

_Damn, _he cursed himself with a grimace. He'd been so occupied with collecting all of the clothing that he'd forgotten about the broomsticks. And now Filch had his Firebolt!

Draco squeezed his hand sharply, not with comfort but with annoyance. Now Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes; leave it to the blond to blame him for this mess when said blond had been completely useless. But that was Draco Malfoy, Harry realized. Take him or leave him.

"Oh, I've got you now!" Filch was saying. "You think you can hide from me? Mrs. Norris will find you. You can be sure of that." Filch was stalking about the tower in long strides as he muttered to himself, turning abruptly at every imagined sound and reaching out wildly to snatch the troublemakers he was sure were taunting him from some dark enclave. It was only a matter of time before the man would quite literally stumble upon them.

Suddenly, Mrs. Norris screeched out in an earsplitting howl before racing back down the steps as if she were running from the Grim itself.

"Mrs. Norris!" Filch called after her in concern as his search was forgotten and he rushed after his beloved pet. Draco was laughing hysterically at his side as he removed the cloak from their faces.

"That was lucky! I wonder what made her run away like that," Harry said as he pulled his trousers back on. Draco just laughed all the more.

"I stepped on her tail," he admitted with a chuckle.

"Good thinking, mate!" Harry complimented with a bright smile.

"That's just the thing," the blond stated sheepishly. "I didn't think of it. It was an accident." Harry couldn't have loved his Slytherin any more than he did in that instant.

* * *

With both boys dressed, Harry was latched firmly onto his Slytherin as he dragged the protesting blond through the corridors.

"But I thought we were going to…you know..." the Slyhterin whined in that spoiled Malfoy way that reminded Harry that he was much more used to getting exactly what he wanted when he wanted it.

"Yeah, I know. It's a pity, Drake. Believe me! I know! But Filch has our brooms, remember?" Harry was quick to remind the boy.

"I know that, but what are we supposed to do about that now?"

"Get them back," the Gryffindor replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"How, exactly?"

"Well, we still have the invisibility cloak. And I'm pretty sure I have the Marauder's Map in my pocket if it didn't get ruined in the rain. And then we have…Ginny!" Harry exclaimed as the redheaded girl nearly toppled into him. Her eyes were wide.

"Harry?" she said as she examined the state of the two boys before her. Malfoy's hair was a disaster, and Harry's much worse than usual. Their clothing was soaked and badly wrinkled, and it looked as if the boys had thrown their garments back on rather hastily. Malfoy's hand was held firmly in Harry's, and both boys were breathing heavily.

"Weaselette? Out after curfew?" the annoying blond taunted with a humorless sneer. Whatever Harry saw in this git, she just wanted to smack him hard right on that pointed jaw of his.

"I was studying in one of the study rooms by the library and I fell asleep. I haven't been getting much sleep with Ron interrogating me about your love life all the time, Harry. I was just on my way back to our rooms. What are you two…. Oh, never mind." She blushed and looked down to her feet at seeing the guilty looks on their faces.

"Actually," Harry began, "we were sort of interrupted…by Filch."

"Filch!" she gasped.

"He didn't see anything!" Draco was quick to add. "But he did get our brooms."

"We have to get them back. Tonight. Before he uses them to identify us," Harry informed the girl seriously, and she nodded back her understanding.

"I'm coming with you," she told them with a mischievous gleam in her eye.

"Ginny…"

"We don't need your help, Weaselette!"

"I'm coming with you," she repeated, and there was no room for argument.

* * *

According to the Marauder's Map, which was still in perfect working condition (and a curious surprise for Draco Malfoy who realized Harry Potter was full of trickery of every sort), Filch had returned to his office and was pacing about the room frantically. No doubt happily envisioning himself bringing the evidence (those poor, unfortunate broomsticks) to the headmaster first thing in the morning and identifying the culprits. The twisted man surely wished he'd paid more attention to which brooms those brats flitted about on, but they were all the same to him – the brooms and the brats. But no matter!

As Harry, Draco, and Ginny reached Filch's rooms they put their plan into action. The first issue of business was the cat. Mrs. Norris would have Filch on guard in an instant if she became aware of their presence, and the invisibility cloak was useless against her feline senses. That's why, Ginny was quick to remind the boys, it was quite an asset to have a witch around who was rather good with charms.

The redhead managed to conjure the perfect rodent, transfigured from nothing more than a broken quill. She teased the tiny mouse with her wand, until the miniature creature understood her direction and scurried into the room. Mrs. Norris sat on a creaky desk next to the broomsticks, flicking her tail lazily to and fro like a pendulum. But when she spotted the mouse, she licked her chops and greedily abandoned her post in favor of the potential meal. Chasing the rodent from the room, the little mouse ran for its creator who darted down the hallway, leading the creature from danger and Mrs. Norris into her trap.

"Huh," Draco mused in a whisper, "she's not nearly as dense as I took her for."

"Whatever you may have assumed, Gryffindor isn't a house full of blockheads," Harry whispered with a sigh.

"Says the blockhead who let Filch get our brooms in the first place."

"You know, you could have helped out just a little. Instead of shrieking like a girl and draping the invisibility cloak around your waist like a skirt," Harry whispered back.

"Maybe it was a kilt?" the blond smirked with a questioning brow.

"Whatever you say," Harry chuckled as he grabbed the blond's hand again and pulled him into the room.

The two boys fell into step behind Filch, but the task was difficult as Filch's pace was fast and the two had to stay in perfect sync to keep the invisibility cloak in place. As Filch turned on them to pace back in the direction from which he'd come, the boys edged quickly around him and sidled up against the window.

"Mrs. Norris? Where has my girl gone off to now?" the man questioned with a scratch to his head. Suspicion escalated in him at once, but he had barely a second to consider it before a loud bang was heard just outside his window. He rushed to the window and peered out in time to see a series of lights shooting forth from a small canister that was resting just outside the sill. Cautiously, he reached out for the object, and his body was met with a shock that made his hair stand on end. Suddenly he was floating towards the ceiling with no control whatsoever. The more he struggled, the faster he rose until like a magnet he collided with the beams above him. He twisted the canister over in his hand until he read "Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."

"Hooligans!" he shouted angrily as he pried himself from the ceiling and fell unceremoniously to the hard floor. The brooms were gone.

* * *

Harry and Draco were running down the corridor, still under the protection of the invisibility cloak. Harry was in the lead with both brooms in his hands and Draco kept pace well enough to stay hidden under the cloak as well. They picked up their speed when they heard Filch screaming and realized he would soon be on the chase.

But unfortunately for Ginny Weasley, she had picked the worst possible time to return. Standing in the doorway of an empty room, she couldn't possibly reenter the hallway without Filch spotting her, but if she stayed there she'd be caught for sure. Her only hope was for Harry to get there in time and get the girl under the cloak as well, but he wasn't even slowing down as he approached her. _He doesn't see her, _Draco realized. He would run right past her, and it wasn't like Draco could say anything with Filch in earshot.

But it was just the Weaselette. Who cared if she was caught? She'd never tell on her precious Harry Potter, or on him by association. It didn't matter to Draco Malfoy if the girl took all of the blame. That's what Draco told himself, but his body didn't seem to get the memo as he darted from beneath the cloak at the last second, grabbed the girl by the wrist, and pulled her into the room with a sounding slam of the door.

The room was nothing but a closet, but it was a fairly good-sized closet and very dark. Draco pulled Ginny to the very back corner behind a series of unused school robes and sat down abruptly. He was breathing hard.

Ginny was shocked to say the least. Did Draco Malfoy just risk himself for her sake? He had to know that Filch would have seen at least the back of him darting into the room and heard the door slam. They were caught, most certainly, and they would be expelled. So why was Draco going down with her?

"Um…Malfoy?" she tried to ask.

His tone was harsh when he responded. "Just shut up, okay? I don't know why I did that," he shot, knowing exactly what she was asking.

That's when Filch opened the door.

"Think you can pull the wool over my eyes?" he grumbled into the dark closet. "I saw this door close. I know you're in here. And guess what! There is no way out!"

The two teenagers pressed their backs as far into the wall as they would go, each wishing they could disappear into it.

"I've got you now!" Filch was saying as he shoved the closet's contents every which way in search of the unruly students. Surely he was right! They were done for!

Just then, the form of Mrs. Norris flew past the open doorway. The poor cat was levitated six feet in the air, fur raised in shock, tail tucked between her legs, and cries of protest escaping her shaking form as she continued her flight down the hallway and around the corner.

"You leave her out of this!" Filch was screaming as he took off once again down the hall. He must have been mistaken, he figured. The culprits were still somewhere in the hall if they'd gotten Mrs. Norris. He turned the corner and was gone.

"Are you two all right?" Harry asked as he pushed the robes aside. They looked a little shaken up, but otherwise unscathed.

"Fine," Draco mumbled as he crawled out of the closet with Ginny following suit.

"Yeah, thanks to you," Ginny said, but to Draco's astonishment she was looking at him and not at Harry.

"What? I…I just didn't want you snitching on me and getting us all expelled," he told her quickly.

"So…you decided to get caught by Filch with me?" she asked with a disbelieving giggle. The blond offered her a sour look, but made no move to continue the argument.

"For a Slytherin he's very rash at times," Harry explained with a smile.

"That's just your influence. Stuff like this never used to happen to me," the Slytherin admitted, and he honestly didn't know how to feel about that. He'd never had anyone stick their necks out for him before, and he'd never felt compelled to do it before either.

"I think we've had enough adventure for one night," Harry told them with a yawn. "It's after two in the morning."

"You're right," Ginny agreed. "You'd better get back, Harry. Ron will be worried."

"What about you?" Harry asked her.

"Leave the map so we can keep track of Filch. I'll be up in just a little while. I have something I want to say to Draco," she explained, and both boys looked at her curiously. "Relax, Harry. I won't let anything happen to your boyfriend. I'll even walk him back to his dormitory. But we both know Filch will be too busy preening Mrs. Norris to scour all of Hogwarts tonight."

Harry nodded his consent, gave his Slytherin a kiss goodnight, and handed him the Marauder's Map and his broom before departing. Draco watched the boy go, avoiding the envious stare the Weasley girl was giving him since Harry had kissed him.

"So…" he finally broke the silence. "What was it, then?"

"Oh," she said quickly as she came back to herself, "I owe you an apology."

"For what?" he demanded.

"I've said a lot of things about you," she told him. "Tonight I realized that I really don't know you at all. I haven't been fair."

"No, we're not doing this," Draco sneered venomously. "Tonight wasn't typical, believe me! You know me better than you think. Besides, I've said plenty about you and I have no intention of taking any of it back. I'll see you, Weaselette." With that, the blond turned swiftly away from the girl and started making his retreat.

"Wait!"

"What?"

"Well, you aren't going back to your rooms looking like that, are you?" She smirked knowingly at him. "Suppose someone woke up and saw you?"

That's when Draco considered his appearance for the first time since he'd met Harry that night. No doubt about it, he was a mess. And his hair looked worse than Harry's!

"I…"

"Your clothes are all wrinkled and your hair looks dreadful!"

"Thanks…" he grumbled with a glare, but she had come to guess that his bark was far worse than his bite. Casting a spell to straighten out his clothes, she ran her hands through his hair a few times until it was at least somewhat presentable.

"That's better. Now, let's be off. I'm getting tired."

"Then go back to your rooms. You're not walking with me back to mine!" he snapped at the girl impatiently.

"Why not? I told Harry I would, and I need that map back from you. He might trust you with it, but I sure don't!" she explained with a sigh.

"Because then you'll know where it is!" She just rolled her eyes at him as she snatched the map from his hands and unfolded it.

"Let's see now. Could it be this place right here in the dungeons where all of the Slytherins are gathered together, sleeping?" She was just mocking him now as she pointed at the exact spot.

"Whatever," Draco grumbled. "You know, you look all sweet on the outside, but I swear on the inside you have some Slytherin in you."

"I'll have to try to take that as a compliment, I suppose," she said as she began walking in the direction of the Slytherin dorms. Draco couldn't help but wonder what this sort of thing would do to his reputation. He could just imagine.

"Well, goodnight then," she said when they reached the entrance to the common room before turning to leave.

"Ginny?" he stopped her, too tired to register the fact he'd referred to her by her first name.

"Yeah?"

"Tonight, with Filch…" he tried to say. "It's just, everything has been going so great thus far, and well…tonight Filch almost caught us. Sooner or later, this is going to get out. It's just a matter of time at this point. It's going to be bad, isn't it?"

"You and Harry?" she pondered. "It's going to be huge at least. And yeah, probably pretty bad. I can't imagine people reacting well to it, and I know what it means for you. I'm a pureblood too, and I know the rules they impose even if my family isn't a part of that. But you have Harry. And you have your friends – your true friends. And me."

Suddenly, the blond looked alarmed. "Don't get any ideas, Weaselette. We're not friends; we're enemies."

"That seems to be a rather fine line with you these days, doesn't it, Draco?" she asked knowingly.

"I suppose it always is," he conceded to himself as he watched her go.


	16. Harry's Girlfriend

**Chapter 16: Harry's Girlfriend**

It was over breakfast the very next morning that the announcement was made. A ball, much like the Yule Ball, was to be held at Hogwarts following the coming holidays. The Great Hall was in an uproar instantaneously, filled with a mixture of groans and cheers as the students considered just what the dance meant for each of them. Ron was one of the groaners, of course. Although he had Hermione to take this year, saving him from the embarrassment of searching for a date and the possibility of making himself look like a fool as he had done with Fleur, he couldn't help but remember those pitiful, ancient dress robes. There was no escaping embarrassment for Ronald Weasley it seemed.

"It is especially important in dark times such as these," McGonagall was saying, "to truly appreciate and enjoy not only the holiday season but each other – for together we are a force with which to be reckoned. It is in that spirit that the first ever Annual Hogwarts Unity Ball will be held this year."

Ron groaned even louder as he dropped roughly to the table like an ostrich trying to bury its head in the sand, but Hermione looked absolutely excited by the prospect. After all, she'd been looking for something romantic she could do with Ron, and a dance was perfect. Harry, however, may as well have cast a silencing charm on himself for his utter lack of enthusiasm. He stared forlornly into space. The last thing he needed right now was a dance! He could just picture his Drake spinning that rotten Pansy Parkinson around the ballroom floor, her greedy little hands all over him as she cooed sweet nothings in his ear. It wasn't that Harry was particularly jealous: he knew Draco couldn't be less interested in the girl, after all. Yet, maybe he was just a _little_ jealous. She could have something with Draco that he couldn't, and somehow all of the secrets and lies prevented the relationship from feeling truly solid and real.

Harry glanced across the massive room to the Slytherin table, trying to gauge Draco's response to the announcement, but the Slytherin had vanished. Pansy looked positively scandalized as she pouted where she sat. What happened? Harry was determined to find out, but Ron had other plans.

"Harry, mate!" he whined loudly in his friend's ear. "You've got to help me out this year! I need to borrow some of your robes for this Unity thing…"

"Won't your mum be sending you some this year?" he asked impatiently, wanting to chase down his Slytherin at once.

"But that's the problem, Harry! You remember the Yule Ball, don't you? I can't go through that again! Everyone was staring!" the redhead insisted.

"Ron, I hardly care what robes you wear to the dance," Hermione assured her boyfriend as she grabbed his hand. "I'm just glad that we actually have a chance to go as a couple this year."

"But they looked like a dress!"

"I'll see what I can do, Ron," Harry told him sincerely. "I'd hate for you to have to wear a dress again, after all. Anyway, I have to do something before class. I'll see you later."

"You're going after Ginny, right?" Ron asked.

"What?"

"Ginny. She walked off a few minutes ago. Not sure where she went. She's been kind of flakey lately. I don't know what she's up to," Ron informed, ever the protective big brother…in his own unique way.

"Right. Yeah. I was just going to make sure she's okay," Harry stammered before rushing out of the Great Hall at a rather impressive speed.

"Come to think of it, he's been rather flakey too," Ron mumbled as he took a sip of milk. Hermione stared after their friend with wide eyes that were easy enough for the redhead to decipher. "Okay, so you've figured something out?"

"Ron," she said slowly, "was it just me or did Harry seem a bit nervous when you mentioned Ginny?"

"Yeah, like I said, flakey."

"Okay, but he did chase after her pretty quickly," the young witch reminded him.

"What are you getting at Hermione?" Ron asked, perplexed. "I already talked to Harry about Ginny. He said she's not his secret girlfriend." The smart witch just rolled her eyes at her boyfriend's naiveté.

"He says that, Ronald, but the thing about a secret girlfriend is that it's a secret. Besides, haven't you noticed how much time they've been spending together lately? Always whispering about something or other? And you were right about Ginny. Something weird is definitely going on with her. She wasn't in the dorm all night! Why, she didn't get in until nearly 3:00 in the morning!" exclaimed Hermione. Now it was Ron's turn to look wide-eyed.

"She was out until 3:00 in the morning?" he asked, and Hermione nodded. "Hermione, Harry got in not long before that."

"So they were out together all night," Hermione stated factually. "Come to think of it, every time Harry has disappeared, which has been a lot lately, Ginny has been missing too!"

"But why lie about it?" Ron asked as he scratched his chin and stirred his scrambled eggs about his plate. "I already said I'd be okay with it… Oh, Merlin! What do you suppose they're doing!? I mean, until 3:00 in the morning! _We_ don't even do _that,_ 'Mione! And this is my little sister we're talking about!"

"Now, Ronald," Hermione attempted to comfort the fuming boy to no avail. "Look, we shouldn't jump to conclusions." But if Hermione thought something was up, and Hermione always knew everything, then Ron was absolutely positive of it – and he had a pretty good idea just what it was, too!

"I'm going to kill him!"

* * *

Harry found Draco just outside of the castle seated at a round, stone table. The chill in the air was unmistakable now, and the rain that pelted the castle grounds only hours before had turned to sleek ice. The sky was a monotonous grey that never seemed to end and now snow had begun to fall thickly from those same clouds. Harry need not worry about other students coming out in this inclement weather and finding him with the Slytherin.

Harry was surprised to see Ginny there as well, shivering from her spot on the table while she seemed to be comforting the hot-tempered blond. Draco was absolutely seething.

"Drake?" the Gryffindor called cautiously, not wanting to startle his distracted Slytherin. Draco looked up squarely, somehow even paler than usual.

"He says he won't go to it," Ginny offered when the Slytherin made no move to speak.

"To the Unity Ball? Is that what that was about with Parkinson? She looked right upset," said Harry.

"No sooner were the words out of McGonagall's mouth than Pansy was throwing herself at me like a bloody bludger," Draco explained sourly. "She thinks I have some Gryffindor girlfriend, and she knows bloody well I can't be seen in public with a Gryffindor so she's taking advantage of the situation. You know how much I hate to be manipulated, Harry! When the hell did I lose control over my life!?"

"And I suppose that's my fault?" Harry asked heatedly, taking offense to the blond's anger.

"Yes!" the Slytherin shrieked like it should have been obvious. "I mean no. Maybe. I don't know. Look, this isn't about you, Harry. This is about me."

"Of course. What isn't?" Now Harry just sounded annoyed.

"Would you two just stop fighting for a minute!?" Ginny bellowed, shooting them a look worthy of Mrs. Weasley herself. "You've already told her no, Draco. And made quite the show at the Slytherin table at that. How suspicious do you suppose that is? It's just one dance. You couldn't put up with her for one night?"

"You have no idea what she's like!" Draco shot back, and Harry looked sick at the very idea of his boyfriend showing up at the ball with that snake.

"Okay," the red-haired girl conceded, "so no one is keen on that idea. Why don't you just get it over with and go together?"

"No!" they both screamed at once.

"Do you know what kind of fallout there would be?" Harry asked in disbelief that the girl would even bring it up.

"I'd get hexed by the whole damn school before we made it down the stairs!" Draco exclaimed in vehement annoyance.

"I don't know what to tell you then," Ginny said with a sigh. "But if you need someone to go with, Harry, you and I could always go as friends. You know I won't get the wrong idea."

"Everyone else would," Harry told her, and she had to agree with him. Ron, especially, would jump to all sorts of conclusions if she showed up at the dance with Harry.

"I don't like it anyway," Draco stated at last. "We can't keep going on like this. Just think about it. I go to the dance with some girl, even if it isn't Pansy, just to hide our relationship. Then I go on a few dates with her, again, to hide our relationship. A few years later I wind up married to her just to hide the relationship and we're still sneaking around. I hate it."

"So what do you want to do about it?" Harry asked seriously.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing," Draco said flatly. "I'm not going."

"Well, I guess that settles it then," Harry agreed easily. "I'm not going, either. Maybe we can '_not go' _together. We can do something special. Just the two of us."

"Really? You promise?" the blond asked slowly.

"Absolutely."

"That's actually not a bad idea. With everyone at the ball, we'll have the run of the castle," Draco stated with a seductive smirk. Maybe this ball wasn't such a bad thing after all. Harry smirked in return.

"Oh, Merlin!" Ginny griped. "I don't even want to know what's running through your minds!"

* * *

Harry pulled the blond boy swiftly through the halls. It was well after curfew and the castle was dark and silent, but Harry was especially cautious this time. Tucked safely under his invisibility cloak, the two boys rushed along. They were huddled so close together that Harry could feel his Slytherin's breath on his neck, and although it was warm, he couldn't help but shiver at the intimate feel of it.

"Where are we going?" Draco asked as he tried to keep pace with his overzealous boyfriend.

"I have a surprise for you."

Draco quirked an eyebrow, but remained silent as he allowed himself to be led along. It didn't take long for him to realize that Harry was taking him to the Great Hall and he wondered what mischief the other boy was out to cause now. Harry was always getting him into some sort of trouble, but the Slytherin had to admit that there was something exciting in those narrow escapes.

Harry gripped his hand in anticipation as he pushed the heavy doors open and finally removed the cloak. He quickly closed the doors behind him and marched up the rows of tables until he reached an open space where he laid the cloak down like a blanket and motioned for his boyfriend to take a seat beside him.

"I don't get it. What is this?" the blond wondered out loud.

"Just lay back for a minute," Harry said as he tugged at the Slytherin's sleeve until the two were resting securely in each other's arms.

That's when Draco finally discerned what Harry was getting at. Stretched out high above them was the enchanted ceiling, the perfect image of the night sky displayed immaculately as if there were no ceiling at all. No barrier to the heavens. The stars were like he'd never seen them, large and luminescent in a way that was surreal, shooting across the great expanse in preparation for a thousand wishes that Draco didn't need to make; he had everything he could ever want right there in that moment.

"Wow…"

"I thought so too," Harry admitted with a blush. "I wanted to make up for last night. I just…I really appreciated it. The tandem flight through the stars. I know you're going to say it's cliché, but…"

"I wasn't going to say that," Draco interrupted warmly. "I was going to say it's magnificent. Some clichés really shouldn't be messed with."

"I think so too." Harry turned to look at the other boy, whose silver eyes sat transfixed on the extraordinary scene above them. But the blond could feel the Gryffindor's eyes on him, so he turned his head to look sharply at him.

"This isn't where you ruin the moment with some cheesy line about how my eyes are more beautiful than the stars, is it?" he questioned. "Because I can feel it coming, and that is one cliché I can actually do without."

"I wasn't going to say that," Harry told him with a grin.

"Good."

"But I was thinking it."

"Merlin, Harry! You're such a sap!" Draco grumbled, but his voice lacked the usual edge. Sometimes he hated how difficult it was not to love Harry. Every infuriating opinion Draco had ever had about the boy was completely true, and Draco couldn't get enough of it.

"But I was also thinking…maybe we could get back to where we left off last night." There was that mischievous side to the boy again, but now wasn't the time for such contemplation.

"I could be on board with that," Draco responded simply.

The kiss that followed wasn't hasty or greedy. It wasn't rushed or hard or demanding. It was soft, gentle, slow, and giving. It was everything that Harry wanted to say to Draco, everything he had to give. It was a kiss that said more than the words "I love you" could ever hope to say because a moment that tender could never be faked, never be a lie. And Draco was saying it back in a way that made Harry wonder how he'd ever thought of this boy as cold or distant.

"I really do love you," Harry said as he broke away to stare intently into those open eyes. It was still important to say it, after all. He was desperate for Draco to truly believe it.

"I love you too. And hopefully Filch won't show up this time."

"If he does," Harry added, "he's in for quite the show."

Then he began undoing the blond's robes, reveling in each hitch of breath as he removed them with deliberate slowness. Draco almost wanted to rip them off himself, but he was unable to move as warm hands finally found the bare skin of his chest. They moved gently up and across his shoulder blades and caressed his delicate neck as the dark-haired boy pulled him in for yet another deep kiss. Draco returned it enthusiastically, but ever the multi-tasker, he simultaneously peeled the layers of clothing off the other boy (albeit much more urgently).

Once both boys were properly undressed, Harry grasped firmly at Draco's slender waist and allowed his kisses to wander down his neck and torso. He was still nervous to take it too far, but Draco didn't seem to notice as he shivered contentedly under the soft pressure like a purring house cat.

Suddenly, the blond pulled him back up until their lips met once more. Draco, definitely the feistier of the two, took command of the kiss. Grabbing Harry by the arms, he used his weight to flip them over so that he was on top. Once satisfied, he dug his long fingers into the messy locks of hair until they were completely buried there and continued the kiss.

Harry could easily see where this was heading. As soon as he had a moment to breathe, he yanked his glasses off and tossed them carelessly out of the way. Draco had him pretty well pinned, but by entwining their legs just so Harry was able to outmaneuver the eager blond and use the leverage to flip them once again.

Back on top, Harry's caresses escalated in ferocity until he was bold enough to slide those strong hands just far enough south to make the other boy whimper with anticipation. The blond's head tilted back in a way that made his neck seem longer than was possible, and Harry was so entranced by it that he had to kiss that beautiful, pale skin. As he nibbled at Draco's lean neck, his hands continued their explorations below. Draco found himself in such ecstasy that he almost couldn't bring himself to move. But he couldn't let Harry get the upper hand on him so easily.

As soon as Harry finished his handiwork (hey, who was Draco to interrupt him when he was busy?) the blond took him by complete surprise and whipped him back down on the cloak before climbing back on top.

"Hey!" Harry protested as he banged his elbow hard on the solid floor. Yet, he couldn't help but laugh at the situation. "We really do turn everything into a competition, don't we?"

"I'll show you competition," Draco growled as he nipped at the other boy's neck and then trailed down his chest and stomach until he reached his final destination.

"Oh Merlin!" Harry screamed. Draco wanted to chastise the fool boy for making so much noise, but he couldn't stop what he was doing when Harry seemed to be enjoying it so much. And Harry certainly was enjoying it if his squirming and erratic breathing were anything to go by. The boy's body was absolutely on fire, and so was Draco's if he was honest with himself.

"That's brilliant!" Harry was screaming breathlessly as Draco continued. He was nothing but feeling as he fixed his eyes on the ceiling above, the last clear image that of a star exploding into a glorious supernova.

After that, they just lay in each other's arms with their robes pulled haphazardly across them like a makeshift blanket until they both drifted off to sleep.

* * *

"Harry," the voice whispered harshly again. "Harry? Draco?"

"Hmm," the golden boy mumbled unintelligibly, willing the intruder away with his hazy mind.

"Harry!"

"Wha – Ginny!" Abruptly, Harry shot up and pulled the loose robes more securely over him and his naked boyfriend. The blood had completely drained from his face as he clutched tightly at them, unable to speak.

Slowly, Draco pried his own eyes open and groaned loudly with displeasure.

"Bloody wonderful. The Weaselette has seen me naked…" he mumbled in a course voice that wasn't lost on the redhead.

Regaining her composure she replied, "I'd be embarrassed. If there was anything to see."

"Hey! You take that back, She-weasel!"

"Hello, Harry." She turned her attention to the other boy with a wink that made Draco tense even more.

"Um…Ginny…do you really think this is appropriate?" Harry questioned with a blush as he reached for his glasses. She grabbed them instead and handed them over.

"Merlin, no! I'm going to have nightmares for life!" she screamed in distaste. "But I didn't have a choice! I've been looking for you all morning. You never came back to the dorms last night, Harry. People are going to notice!"

"We'll face the music later," Draco replied in annoyance as he pulled Harry closer to him. "Leave us alone."

"But boys…breakfast starts in an hour."

"What!"

Ginny could take a cue; completely red, she left the Great Hall to allow the two boys to get dressed. As soon as she was gone, both boys were frantic as they pulled on their garments in sheer panic.

"I can't believe you let me fall asleep!" Draco spat.

"I let you fall asleep? What happened to 'let's face the music later'?" Harry asked sharply as he started doing up his tie.

"I'll have you know, that was after you let me fall asleep. And I am not a morning person," the blond drawled.

"I can see that," Harry teased as he ran his hand through the tangled blond hair before pulling him in for a heated kiss.

"Harry…" the Slytherin interrupted.

"I know! There isn't time for that!" The Gryffindor started hurriedly putting himself back together again.

"Harry…"

"And I'm sorry for snapping at you."

"Harry!"

"What!"

"You're wearing my tie," the Slytherin said smoothly with an amused smirk. Harry looked down immediately, finding that he was indeed wearing the Slytherin's tie.

"Oh," he muttered with a blush.

"You would have looked damn good in Slytherin," the blond remarked as he pulled Harry in close with that same tie and continued Harry's kiss.

"Boys!" Ginny was in the room again, tapping her foot in a way that annoyed even Harry. Fine then. There really wasn't time.

"Here's your tie then," Harry said as he yanked it off and returned it to the Slytherin, letting his hand brush ever so softly against Draco's and lingering there for just a moment. "I'll see you later."

* * *

It was only a few minutes later that Harry and Ginny charged into the Gryffindor lounge, hand in hand and completely out of breath. But it was just their luck that the common room was already full of Gryffindors. Suddenly, dozens of sets of eyes were on the pair and the room was dead silent.

"Are you two just getting in now?" Seamus asked seriously.

"I…" Harry didn't know what to say.

"So, what's this then?" Dean wondered out loud.

"That's what I want to know!" Ron bellowed as he shoved past the bombardment of Gryffindors. He was fuming as his fists continually clenched and unclenched and his fury-distorted face went from red to near-purple. "I trusted you, Harry!"

"Ron!" Hermione warned as she tugged at his arm to no avail.

"I can't believe you'd do this to my sister!"

"What!" Harry shrieked as clarity dawned on him. Did Ron think that…that he and Ginny? "It's not like that, Ron!"

"She's my sister, Harry!" the redhead shouted menacingly as he took a step forward and Harry a step back.

"You've got it all wrong," Harry reasoned.

"Do I?" But it wasn't a question. It was an accusation.

Fortunately, Ginny Weasley had her own fair share of the Weasley temper, and she was not going to have her reputation dragged through the mud.

"How dare you even insinuate that, Ron!" she screamed shrilly, striding angrily toward him. "What kind of girl do you think I am!?" Ron was completely taken off guard by the outburst.

"I thought…"

"I know what you thought! And how dare you think that about me! And Harry too! Your best mate!" she continued heatedly. "For Merlin's sake, Ron! We just fell asleep! It was an accident! Nothing happened!"

Harry was suddenly very self-conscious as he ran his hands over his robes, trying to disguise his rumpled state.

"Is that the truth, Harry?" Ron asked slowly.

_Not exactly, no._ "Yes."

The redhead looked suddenly relieved as he heaved out a long breath. The other Gryffindors, while still tense and uneasy, leaned in closer anyway. This was good stuff!

"Good," Ron finally said. "Otherwise, I was going to have to kick your arse."

"Well…you don't have to," Harry assured his friend weakly.

"So then," the redhead continued, "you and Gin, huh? You know, you didn't have to lie about it. I told you it was okay for you to date my sister, Harry."

"Oh, well…that was my fault," Ginny cut in. "I was shy about it."

"You were shy?" her brother interrogated in disbelief.

"I can be shy, Ron!"

"So, then, you two will be going to the dance together?" Hermione interrupted, trying to change the subject. If only the smart witch knew just how much trouble she was about to cause…

"What? Oh, um…" Harry stammered nervously, all eyes watching him expectantly. "Of course."


	17. The Calm Before the Storm

**Chapter 17: The Calm Before the Storm**

"**Dear Starry-eyed Lover,**

**Last night was the most awesome night of my entire life! Can we do that again? Soon? **

**Holidays are in a week and I imagine you'll be going home so I won't be seeing you for a while. I'm really going to miss you. With everything that's happened this year, I don't know what I'm going to do without you. We'll definitely have to make the most out of this week.**

**But there's another reason I'm writing to you. Please don't be upset! I know how you get about things, and I did make a promise to you. Believe me, I really want to keep it. It's just that I got backed into a wall when I got back to my common room this morning. Everyone saw me and Ginny together and jumped to all sorts of conclusions, and now everyone in Gryffindor thinks we're dating…**

**And, I kind of said I was going to go to the dance with her…**

**I'm really, really sorry! You have no idea! I just don't think there's any way I can get out of it.**

**I love you,**

**Awaiting Forgiveness (Hopefully)"**

Harry sat rigidly at the table as he finished composing the letter. He knew Draco wasn't going to handle this news well. The other boy had a short temper and took everything personally. Oh no, this was not to go down well. He placed the note mechanically in the blue book and returned it to the shelf before going to class. He was running late for Defense, having gone to the library between classes, and he wasn't looking forward to seeing Remus who'd been treating him with kid gloves since his outburst the last time they'd spoken privately. Not to mention the strange glances the werewolf was giving Harry every time he thought the younger wizard wasn't paying attention.

Remus had already started his lecture when Harry arrived, and Draco looked at him curiously when he came through the door. Harry just shrugged and went to sit in his usual seat. Remus was giving him that look again.

"If I could get you all to split up into groups of two, we'll work on putting some of these deflecting spells to good use," the man finally continued, shaking off his concern the best he could. "And remember, this is a classroom. Let's try not to let things get quite so out of hand this time." He shot Draco a stern glare as he said that last part, but the blond seemed rather proud to be called out in such a way.

"So what did I miss?" Harry asked Ron as the two paired off and found a solitary corner to practice.

"Not much," Ron commented offhandedly. "We covered a lot of this in the DA. Where were you anyway?"

"I had to stop by the library," Harry replied, trying to sound casual. The redhead just rolled his eyes.

"You're always in the bloody library these days, mate," he accused lightly. "You weren't off snogging my sister, then?"

"Ron!"

"Relax, mate. I was just joking," Ron placated, but Harry was fed up.

Ron's unrelenting teasing and verbal pushing had been tiring for months, and now it had spread to the rest of Gryffindor as well. It wasn't Ron's fault per say, but the clandestine nature of his relationship that bothered him most. Ron and Hermione were just nauseating in their ceaseless giggling, touching, and general public closeness. It just wasn't fair!

* * *

"Harry!" Remus called as the students filed out of the classroom. Harry stopped short, sighing despondently to himself. The last thing he needed was one of the werewolf's lectures. "Would you mind staying after class?"

"I'm sorry I was late for class, Professor," Harry answered quickly before heading for the door once again.

"Just a minute, Harry," Lupin stopped him again. "That's not what I wanted to talk about."

"Okay," Harry mumbled as he approached his professor. It wasn't that he intentionally meant to be rude to his favorite teacher and friend, but he was so tired of lying. Avoidance seemed the best option.

"You were going a little rough on Ron today, don't you think? Is something going on between you two?" Lupin questioned sincerely, crossing his arms and leaning back on his desk. Harry sighed.

"Not really. I just have a lot on my mind lately," the boy answered honestly. "I'm sorry I've been an arse." Remus couldn't hold back his chuckle.

"Don't worry about it, Harry. I could tell there was something going on with you. I _am _your friend, Harry. I hope you know you can tell me anything. Anything at all," Remus insisted, piquing Harry's interest.

"What are you getting at, Remus?" Harry asked apprehensively. He was being paranoid. That had to be it. Remus couldn't possibly know.

"I've been hearing a lot about you and Ginny lately. Mostly from Ron," Remus answered.

"Oh, that." Relief flooded Harry. Remus didn't know. Of course he couldn't know. Everything was fine.

"Pretty serious?"

"Um…yeah, I guess so."

"So you must be taking her to the dance?"

"Yes."

"So you're not taking Draco then?"

"N…What!?"

Harry eyed his professor critically for a long moment, suddenly unsure if he'd heard correctly. But there was something in the man's patient nature and slow, understanding smile that confirmed Harry's nightmare.

"I know, Harry," Remus explained. "I have to admit, I was surprised at first. I knew I had to be wrong, but there was the way you two kept staring at each other from across the room. I knew something had changed. And then there was the way his scent was all over you. At first, I thought the two of you were just brawling again. But he's not just in your clothes, Harry. He's on your breath. I knew you'd been kissing…"

"Remus…" But Harry didn't know what to say. He'd underestimated his friend's werewolf senses. He couldn't bear the thought of losing Remus now, but how could he explain? And did he really want to try to explain away Draco? But Draco was awful to Remus. He had tried every trick in the book to get the werewolf fired, taunted him incessantly, and never let him forget what he was.

"You have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about, Harry."

But the young Gryffindor couldn't find his voice. He wasn't ready for this. He wasn't ready for Remus to know, to look at him like he was looking at him now – like something had changed. Like he was somehow different than before. Because even though the professor's smile was real and his eyes understanding, there was an underlying confusion there that Harry wasn't quite prepared to face.

"I wish you had told me, Harry," the werewolf continued when it became obvious the boy had no intention of responding. "I would have understood."

"Do you?" Harry asked sharply. Remus sighed.

"I want to, Harry. I'll admit it came a bit unexpected. I thought for sure something was happening between you and Ginny. You seemed to hate Draco Malfoy for so long that…but things aren't always as they seem. I know that more than most." Remus reached out and rested a hand on his student's shoulder.

"He's different than you think," Harry insisted.

"Harry, I don't want you to feel like you have to defend yourself, or Draco Malfoy for that matter, to me. I know you've both had it rough, and this isn't going to make it any easier."

"You can say that again," Harry said, eyes downcast. "Remus," the boy finally ventured, "how do you think Sirius would have reacted?"

Remus watched him intently for a long time, knowing he was entering dangerous territory. How would Sirius have reacted? Remus was surprised to find that as well as he'd known the other man, as close as they'd been, he didn't really know. Sirius had always been quite apt at "skirt chasing" (as he referred to it) in his day, and Remus couldn't recall them ever having known someone who was gay. Or at least someone who was open about it. But then again, it wasn't really talked about in those times when the purebloods were pushing for dominance.

But regardless, Sirius had been a rebel. Pureblood ideals were archaic to him, and surely he would not have turned his back on the son of James and Lily over something so trivial.

"I think he would have needed some time to wrap his mind around it," the werewolf answered honestly. "But I also think that nothing could make him stop loving you." The young Gryffindor looked hopeful at the response, and he offered Remus the tiniest of smiles.

"And you?" he asked.

"I know what it's like to be different, Harry. I may be surprised, but I know that you're still the same Harry who's saved this school time and time again. This changes nothing." Remus patted the boy on the shoulder once more before broaching the subject he knew Harry would be most interested in. "And your parents would have been proud."

"You think so?"

"I know so. No matter what."

* * *

_The blond crumpled the note into a tight ball and dropped it on the table before him. Despite years of experience carefully schooling his features, he couldn't stop a few tears from streaking down his cheeks. He walked quickly from the library._

"A poor attempt at Occlumency, Draco," Severus sneered. "Disappointing."

Draco twitched at the words. "I usually do better than that, Sev," he insisted. "You know that. You've trained me before."

"And 'usually' means nothing, you foolish child. If you lose control over your emotions like that around your father or the Dark Lord, you will let them in as you did me." Severus said. He approached his student slowly. "Potter fails to impress as well."

That got Draco's attention. His head shot up quickly, eyes wide at the mention of his boyfriend's name.

"Oh? What does he think he's doing? What did you see?"

Severus's mouth curled down in distaste. "More than I'd like. I encourage you, Draco, end this now. Has he not shown himself to be unworthy?"

"He's a bloody prat," Draco spat through clenched teeth before softening. "But he _is _trying to keep our secret. _My _secret."

"For his sake or for yours?"

"For both of us. Does it really matter?" Draco sighed. Snape did not look happy, but then again, did he ever?

"Then figure this out," he snapped shortly. "Lucius demands you return home for the holidays, and you must be able to Occlude properly." Draco nodded his understanding. "You are dismissed."

And that was that.

* * *

Draco understood. Really he did. Sort of. But that didn't mean he had to be happy about it, and it certainly didn't mean he wasn't going to give Harry a hard time. The other boy deserved it. Besides, he wouldn't really be Draco Malfoy if he let the other wizard off too easily, would he?

Harry squirmed uncomfortably in front of him, shifting his balance from foot to foot and digging his hands into the fabric of his robes with an awkward twist. Draco had to admit, he was kind of enjoying this. He smirked at his guilt ridden boyfriend as the dark-haired boy did his best to explain.

"So you see," he was saying, "there wasn't much else I could say, Drake. I was on the spot and all, and I didn't want it to seem too suspicious. And at least Ginny understands where I stand with this. And you, I hope. It doesn't mean anything."

"Of course it doesn't," Draco drawled easily. He arched an eyebrow at the other boy's surprised gape.

"Really?"

"Really," the blond assured. "I can see that you're quite serious. Promises to me 'don't mean anything' and why should they? I'm just your dirty little secret after all."

Now Harry seemed torn between hitting the Slytherin and trying to reassure him otherwise. "That's not what I meant and you know it," he finally settled on. "And this is your secret as well as mine so don't blame that on me."

"Fine," Draco said with a surprisingly straight face. "I suppose I should do my part in keeping it. I'll go find Pansy then, shall I?"

"Parkinson?" the Gryffindor squeaked. "You can't be serious! She'll have her hands all over you! You said you didn't even want to go to the bloody dance anyway!"

"Yes, well…I am a Malfoy, and I do have appearances to keep up," Draco informed with a tiny, mischievous smile. It finally seemed to dawn on Harry that perhaps his Slytherin was enjoying this scene a bit more than he should. He smiled back sheepishly before taking the blond's hand in his own and sighing deeply.

"I suppose I deserved that. But are you really going to be okay with this?"

"I don't know. I guess I'll have to be," Draco replied honestly. "But I don't like it and I think you're a damn prat for doing this to me, Harry." Suddenly, he smirked. "But you'll be making it up to me for a very long time, my little house elf." With that, he leaned in and gave the other boy a quick kiss on the mouth.

"I don't doubt it," Harry said. His eyes were still closed in relief, and the tension in his body released like a balloon letting out excess air. "So, holidays…. How are you about going home?" That seemed to finally dishearten the blond.

"I'll have to face my father's wrath for not killing you with that gargoyle. Merlin knows I haven't been looking forward to that." Draco released Harry's hand and nodded his resignation for the ordeal. "But other than that, it'll just be the same old Malfoy Christmas tradition of plotting and scheming. At least there will be presents."

"I wish you could stay here with me," Harry admitted. Draco would have liked that too, and the privacy would have been sublime. Finally, to not have to sneak around in the shadows and under the invisibility cloak! But alas! Lucius Malfoy was not to be undermined. Not yet anyway.

"As do I. But I will see you very soon, my foolish Gryffindor."

"I'll miss you too, Snakeface."

* * *

Draco glanced up at the looming manner with apprehension in his gut. He wasn't ready to face his father after everything that had happened that year. He knew Lucius was disappointed, and more than that he was downright furious at Draco's failures. All that was bad enough, but the whirlwind of emotions within Draco had unsettled his usual stoicism to the point that his Occulemncy was suffering greatly. Now was so not the time for that. If Lucius knew that all of those so-called "failures" were intentional on his part, knew about his son's clandestine relationship with none other than Harry Potter, knew Draco's deep, dark secrets that he'd fought so hard to protect, then there was no telling what the man would do.

The young Slytherin pushed down the bile forming in his throat as he handed off his bag to a house elf and marched inside with his chin held high. Appearances were everything, and he must not forget who he is. Panic would be the end of him.

However, Lucius Malfoy was not in the foyer to greet him as Draco had expected. He held back a sigh of relief.

"Draco, dear!" a voice called out to him. He turned to see Narcissa coming down the staircase, arms outstretched and a wide, elegant smile on her face. She embraced him immediately when she reached him, running a hand through the soft hair he'd forgotten to gel back, and he returned the hug.

"Mother," Draco acknowledged. "It's nice to see you. Where's Father?"

"He had some business to attend to," she explained. "I expect he'll be back before dinner." Her delicate eyes creased with worry at the statement and her mouth tightened into a fine line.

"What kind of business?" Draco asked slowly.

"With the others. With the Dark Lord," she elaborated nervously before laughing it off and pulling him forward. "But you must be starving, my little dragon. I've had the house elves prepare something for you. I imagine your trip was tiresome."

Draco followed her, but his own concerns still rested heavily in his gut. Why had his father gone to the Dark Lord now? Were they talking about him? Were they deciding his punishment? Draco couldn't get his mother's nervous expression out of his head.

* * *

Draco was in his room, propped up on a couple of rather expensive pillows at the head of his bed. His foot twitched nervously, tapping uselessly at the air there. The manor was silent. Too silent even. He couldn't even hear the hustle and bustle of the house elves, usually hard at work on one task or another. His mother hadn't been to see him since she got him settled, and she'd been acting strange even then. His father would be home by now, he thought with a sigh. That was where everyone must be, milling around the pretentious blond man with practiced caution. Draco could imagine his mother, the house elves, the servants, all at their master's beck and call. And soon it would be his turn. And Lucius would want him to explain his failings and to submit to some awful punishment or another.

And if the almost painful silence offered any sort of foreshadowing, that punishment was going to be rather unpleasant. _Just get through it and you'll be back with Harry in no time. He's your father. What can he realistically do to you? _But Lucius had been meeting with the Dark Lord, and that was something to fear. Because whatever fatherly affection Lucius felt for his son, and there certainly was a great deal despite everything, the Dark Lord's orders always took precedence.

He was interrupted by a knock on the door. A house elf, his brain registered. But it wasn't a house elf at all. Instead, he turned to find Narcissa Malfoy standing with forced elegance in his now open doorway. Even stranger, he realized. She'd come by herself to his room without sending a house elf to fetch him for her. This was not standard procedure in the manor.

"Your father has returned," she informed her son in a steady voice that sounded rehearsed. "He requests an audience with you, Draco." She could not meet his eyes.

"In just a minute. I wanted to change before dinner," he said nervously.

"At once, Draco," she commanded, but with little bite. It was as if she was willing him to defy the order, to somehow escape whatever fate beheld him. Oh, things were bad indeed.

"Mother?" he questioned. But she simply shook her head before he could question her further and walked purposefully from the room.

Draco got up and followed, but he moved slowly. Still, he could not hold off forever, and soon he found himself stepping cautiously into his father's study.

Lucius sat tall behind his desk, appearing every bit like a regal portrait, a characterture of himself. His cane was poised beside him, long, ivory fingers resting atop it. He'd been waiting for Draco, and he watched the boy enter the room with mounting impatience.

"Take a seat, Draco. We have much to discuss," the man drawled silkily. Draco couldn't stop the shudder that coursed through him, but he did as he was told.

"Father," he greeted. "It's nice to see you."

"Let's dispense of the small talk, Draco," Lucius said. "There are issues of much greater importance at hand."

"Of course." Draco slunk deeper into his chair, Malfoy posture failing him in his uneasiness. "You wanted to talk about the gargoyle?"

"Yes, your little stunt of setting the beast loose in the Great Hall," his father confirmed absently. "I gave you a specific set of instructions, Draco. Instructions that you failed to follow."

"I thought I had a better way…"

"A fool's way! Do you see now, Draco? Do you see the importance of obedience?" Draco nodded mutely. Lucius continued: "I have been to counsel with the Dark Lord, Draco. Your disobedience has failed us for the last time, my son, and our Lord deems it necessary to…Sit up straight, Draco! Are you a Malfoy or not? And your hair…but at any rate, our Lord deems it necessary to put you through the proper training."

"Training?" Draco gulped.

"It is time, Draco," the blond man said through a piercing gaze of cold slate. "You will take the mark. You will join the Death Eaters, and through your service to the Dark Lord you will learn to do as is expected of a pureblood. But the Dark Lord will not be as forgiving as I have been, Draco."

Draco stared, unmoving and unbreathing. This couldn't be happening! He'd failed! He wasn't worthy of the mark! He would make a terrible Death Eater! He was too young and foolish. His skin too perfectly pale and fresh to be marred forever by the Dark Mark.

"But I failed! Surely I'm not worthy," Draco sputtered at last. No! No! No! How could this be happening? What about Harry? He couldn't return to him as a Death Eater! If he returned at all…

"This is an honor, Draco," Lucius said, steel in his voice at his son's impudence. "You should be grateful. The Dark Lord has chosen you despite your…shortcomings."

"Yes, sir," Draco muttered quietly. He should have known better than to think he could escape this life. And now it was too late for any sort of life. The Dark Lord would see through him. He would glare through the young boy with evil, hollow eyes that bore through to his inner most soul. He would call Draco an imposter, a traitor, a freak. Because Draco had acted on his feelings, and there was no greater sin when your name was Malfoy.

A rose by any other name…

…was much sweeter.

* * *

His mother came to him that night to comfort him, but he could not be comforted. He didn't care if it was unMalfoy like or not, he cried. He cried loud and long in deep, heaving breaths that threatened to turn his pale complexion purple. He threw things across the room to shatter, break, or thud to the floor. He paced and he screamed and he muttered unsensibles to himself.

"Now, now, Draco," his mother soothed. She led him to his bed and sat him down. "This doesn't have to be a bad thing," she said, sounding like she was trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince him. "If you're careful, if you do everything the Dark Lord asks of you…"

"No," Draco said. He shook his head in defeat. "No, Mother. You don't understand. I won't even live long enough to receive the Dark Mark. He'll look into me. He'll look into me and he'll see…"

"See what, Draco?"

"Crimes," Draco answered in a dead voice. "Crimes against the purebloods. Crimes against my bloodline."

Narcissa trembled where she sat, worry scurrying across her delicate features and creasing her forehead in uncharacteristic lines. What could Draco be talking about?

"What crime could you ever have possibly committed, my dragon?" she asked soothingly. He fixed her with a steady gaze before taking a deep breath that did little to ease his nerves.

"I'm gay, Mother," he confessed. "And I've accepted it. I've been with someone, too. And it was so wonderful. But the Dark Lord will see it, won't he? Mother?"

Narcissa sat there, numb, for the tiniest beat of a second. Then what Draco said seemed to sink in and her face changed in a way Draco couldn't read.

She got up and left the room.


End file.
